Longest Monday: Revenge of the 5th Graders
by The Wasp1995
Summary: The first Monday of June approaches yet again...only this time Arnold and company are the ones who will be doing the 'trash canning'. As Arnold struggles with the idea of perpetuating the cycle of revenge, his classmates seem intent on keeping the tradition. Will he find a way to spare the fourth graders? Or will the desire for payback prove too irresistible? Small H/A
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, fellow readers!**

 **I'm here with another 'Hey Arnold' story. Although I have one currently in the works (feel free to check it out), I felt this idea was too good to pass up. Unlike some of my other fics, which deal with more adult and even some darker themes, this fic was designed more like a typical episode of the show. Harmless, fun, but with a broader message in mind that everyone can understand.**

 **I even searched around the archives and I'm pretty sure this idea is original, or at least hasn't been tried before on this site. So I hope you guys like it. Please review and let me know what you think! Feedback is always helpful to me.**

 **On with the story! Enjoy!**

 _ **The Wasp Presents- Longest Monday: Revenge of the 5th Graders**_

 **Chapter 1. Trash Can Day Returns**

It was a beautiful day in Hillwood. The sun shined, birds sang, and the city hummed along with its usual sights and sounds; cars honking on the freeway, stoop kid harassing passerby's, construction within the potholes by the union men. Spring had finally come in full force, as April had been quite inconsistent in the weather patterns. But it was the last week of May, with the promise of summer on the horizon, and you could feel the excitement in the air at P.S. 118 Elementary School.

"Man, I cannot wait for this year to be over. 5th grade has me reeling," Gerald moaned as he and his best friend, Arnold, walked the city blocks towards the red brick building they went to Monday through Friday.

The boy with the blonde hair and oblong shaped head responded more evenly.

"Come on, Gerald. I mean aside from the fact that Mr. Simmons has given us more work than last year, being a 5th grader hasn't been so bad. We're the second oldest kids in the school. And next year we'll be at the top of the food chain."

"Whatever you say, Arnold," his best friend replied a bit skeptically. "I do admit it's nice being on the other side of the wedgie for once. But man, Wolfgang is worse than ever."

And no sooner had Gerald spoke those words, they observed the burly (now) 6th grader laughing while pulling the waistband of a second grader's underwear over his head. Thankfully, they were on the other side of the street so he didn't notice them.

"Yeah well, Wolfgang likes easier prey these days," Arnold shrugged. "The point is, I'm glad we're finally in a position where we're left alone-OUCH!"

As he and Gerald had rounded the corner to school, he had unceremoniously walked straight into Helga Pataki, who was also closely followed by her best friend, Phoebe.

Shaking his head, Arnold picked himself off the ground and offered a hand to help the blonde girl up, but he could have guessed what happened next.

"Sorry, Helga. I-"

"Arnold, I uhh…I mean why don't you watch where you're going, football head!" she spat furiously. "Geez, I always knew you weren't the brightest bulb on the porch but if you were any clumsier you'd trip over your own shoes!"

"I didn't mean to-"

Helga slapped his hand away, got herself upright and started brushing off the sleeves of her dress.

"Yeah well, whatever, just stay out of my way Arnoldo, if you know what's good for you! Come on, Pheebs, let's leave it to these oafs."

"Coming!"

As the girls walked away, Arnold and Gerald could only stare, slightly bemused.

"I'll never understand what Phoebe sees in old unibrow."

"Is it because you'd like to spend more time with her as opposed to her spending it with Helga?"

Gerald blushed a little at that comment.

"I don't know what you're talkin about."

"Whatever you say, Gerald," Arnold replied with a playful smirk.

"At least I don't have to deal with a female that torments me all the time."

"Helga, doesn't torture me…okay she kind of does," he admitted when his best friend gave him a raised eyebrow. "But I think she's getting better…a little."

"Man, Arnold, you give her too much credit."

"My theory is that her bark is worse than her bite."

"Yeah, well you can test that theory some other time. Right now, we gotta get inside before the bell rings."

And with their trademark handshake, both boys set off for the doors of P.S. 118.

* * *

The first four periods went by without much incident (aside from Harold mistaking glitter for sprinkles) and soon Arnold and Gerald were walking towards the lunchroom.

"It's really nice out today. Why don't we all sit outside together?" Arnold suggested.

"I'm down," Gerald agreed. "Let's tell the other guys."

As they made their way down the hall, however, both boys couldn't help but notice certain groups of kids were actively avoiding them. Some huddled together and avoided eye contact, while others scurried away faster than a Road Runner.

"Uh, what's with these people and why are they running away from us like we got the plague or something?"

Arnold too was puzzled, as he saw a younger fourth grader, one he knew by sight but not by name, duck into a janitor's closet as they approached.

"Well not every kid is doing it," he surmised. "Just…fourth graders."

"Fourth graders?" Gerald asked. "Why should they be scared of us?"

"No idea. It's not like we're mean to them or anything."

"Well let them be all weird," Gerald shrugged, as he opened a candy wrapper. He crumpled it up and held it up high as if holding a basketball. "Scottie Pippen shoots!" He proceeded to shoot the wrapper into the trash can by the lunchroom doors.

"He scores! Nothing but the bottom of the barrel!"

Arnold chuckled. Gerald was a huge fan of the Chicago Bulls and his 33 jersey of Pippen was a memento of that fact.

"Actually, I think this is getting pretty full," he said, peering down into the mess of garbage that was almost to the rim of the can. "In fact, most of them are."

It was then that Gerald looked as if he had been hit with a water cannon, before slapping a hand to his forehead and laughing.

"Oh man, I almost forgot. That explains everything!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Arnold, don't you remember? A week from now, it's Trash Can Day. The first Monday of June."

That brought back memories for the blonde boy, none of which were pleasant.

"The day before trash pick up where fourth graders are unceremoniously stuck into trash cans by fifth graders. I remember."

"Yeah, except we're no longer fourth graders, buddy," Gerald said sliding his arm around his best friend. "We're fifth graders. And this year, things are going to be a lot different."

Arnold chuckled a bit, but the thought of dumping students in trash cans that were only a year younger than them felt…off for some reason.

"Does it feel strange to you that we'll be the ones doing it this year?" he asked Gerald. "I can't really wrap my head around it."

"Nah, it's cool," Gerald replied. "It's tradition. You said yourself last year that we should continue it."

 _I did say that_ , Arnold thought with a small bit of regret.

"Anyway, we gotta tell all the guys today at lunch. Let's get a table on the blacktop."

Arnold nodded as they entered the cafeteria doors, wondering just how his fellow classmates would react to the upcoming event.

* * *

As it turned out, the rest of the 5th graders were very enthusiastic about the prospect of participating in Trash Can Day, only this time as the perpetrators. Sitting outside on a relatively warm spring day, Mr. Simmons' class was positively abuzz with chatter.

"I can't wait to stick a fourth grader in a trash can!" laughed Harold as he munched on a sandwich. "It'll be awesome!"

"While I for one detest the thought of going near garbage," Rhonda stated pompously with a shudder. "I do think this will be quite an enjoyable spectacle."

"This year it will be our turn to take out the trash," Phoebe said happily. "No pun intended."

"Trash Can Day is a fourth grader's worst nightmare, a fifth grader's best friend," said Stinky. "And I'm sure glad we ain't fourth graders no more."

"Like all kid legends, Trash Can day is a tradition, passed down from kid generation to kid generation," Sid explained to all listeners. "And in honor of tradition, I think it's time we hear the story again. Gerald is the keeper of the tales."

"Hey, wait a minute! I want to tell the story! I know it!" Curly shouted as he jumped up and down.

"Say another word, and old Betsy here will make sure you'll wake up in two weeks needing a new haircut," Helga growled showing Curly her first. It had the desired effect as the bowl cut boy fell silent.

"Erm…thank you, Helga."

"Don't mention it, hair boy."

Gerald stood up and cleared his throat before beginning.

"As you all know, Trash Can Day occurs on the first Monday of June. The day before the big pick up where all the nasty, maggot filled garbage stews in the sun for hours. As I also stated last year, no one knows how exactly it started. But it's been going on for four years now, and the principle remains the same. On said day, fifth graders all around the city find unsuspecting fourth graders and plop them into trash cans, leaving them smelling like the end of a sewer line.

"My fellow 5th graders, you know what it's like to be dropped into a can of filth. Well this year, it's payback time. As my man Sid pointed out, it's tradition, and I'm not going to be the one who breaks tradition. Are you?"

A chorus of 'no's' and 'no way' rang throughout the lunch table.

"Then it's agreed," Helga spoke up again. "By this time next Monday, the fourth graders are going down."

"Into the trash can!" cackled Curly, and for once no one tried to shut him up, only more whooping and hollering.

Arnold was glad to see his fellow classmates in agreement, as they were very rarely united on anything. He himself had deemed Trash Can Day as harmless fun. So why did he feel conflicted?

"We'll need a plan to ensure none of the fourth graders escape before proper 'canning' as they say," Phoebe explained.

"How hard is it to chase down and grab the little dweebs?" Helga said with a dark chuckle.

"No, I think Phoebe's right," Sid countered. "If we want this day to be a success, we'll have to get every single fourth grader before the day is done."

"So, who makes the plan?" Stinky drawled.

"How bout Arnold and Gerald?" Sid suggested. "They almost made it the entire afternoon without getting trash canned last year. They probably know every nook and cranny in the neighborhood."

Arnold looked at Gerald, who shrugged as if to say, 'I'm in if you are'.

"Alright, we'll do it," the blonde agreed. "Gerald and I will come up with something over the course of the week. Shouldn't be too hard."

"Just don't screw it up, bucko. Otherwise we'll be the laughingstock of the school."

Ignoring Helga's usual swipes, he nodded at Gerald who in turn nodded back.

"It's settled then. We'll plan and begin preparations starting tomorrow. And by Monday, the fourth graders won't stand a chance."

There was more collective agreement until Sid raised his Yahoo soda bottle in the air.

"To Trash Can Day!"

Everyone else followed suit and affirmed.

"To Trash Can Day!" they repeated.

They drank in silence before moving on to the next topic of conversation. Though Arnold had done just as his classmates had, he couldn't help but feel that same conflicting feeling in his gut.

 _Quit worrying_ , he chided himself. _It's just an annual prank. All the kids before us went through it. What's the big deal?_

Despite the attempt at self-reassurance, the pit in his stomach only grew larger.

* * *

 **Well that's the first chapter. I hope it makes for a nice introduction to the storyline. More will be coming soon!**

 **~TheWasp**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, everyone. I'm back with another update for Longest Monday: Revenge of the 5th Graders. I'm gotten some really good feedback so far, so thank you to all of those who reviewed, followed and favorited.**

 **So when we left off, Arnold and Gerald had agreed to make a plan for Trash Can Day, but our favorite football head was not as gung-ho about the idea as his classmates. Will that change this chapter?**

 **Anyway, as always, please review as I love people's thoughts and critiques.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 2. A Tuna Surprise**

 _ **6 days before Trash Can Day**_

The next morning, Arnold woke up feeling quite peppy and the pit in his stomach was largely gone. He brushed his teeth, packed his school supplies, got himself dressed, and headed downstairs, knowing Gerald would be waiting for him soon.

"Heya there, short man!" his grandpa called as he grabbed a quick batch of bacon at the table where the rest of the tenants were enjoying breakfast.

"Hey, Grandpa!"

"You're in a good mood this morning. Any particular reason?"

"Just the promise of a new day, I guess," Arnold replied with a smile.

"Old man, make me breakfast. I'm starving over here!" called out a familiar Eastern European accent.

"Shut your hole, Kokaschka and make your own breakfast."

"Good morning my fellow safari travelers!" an old but strong voice rang out, bursting through the door. Arnold could have guessed it was his grandma, and today she was in her safari outfit, complete with a hat, machete sword and a plate of toast.

"Pookie, be careful with that thing," Grandpa said nervously as his wife hacked up the toast with erratic but timed precision.

"Nonsense, soldier. A guide is always an expert with her weapon and the knife is no exception."

Grandma Gertie turned towards her grandson and beamed a great smile.

"Well hello there, Kimba. Nice day for a trip to the savannah isn't it?"

Arnold could never tell whether his grandma was being serious or not, but he knew enough by now that going along with whatever she felt like doing that day was the best policy.

"Yes, it is, Grandma. Excellent toast by the way," he said munching on the meal she had provided.

"My, you are sweet, Kimba."

"Just telling the truth, Grandma," he smiled.

"Old man, this toast is too burnt."

"Go whine somewhere else, Oskar," Ernie Potts said rolling his eyes as he read the morning paper. He peered over it briefly and said, "Hey, Arnold, I think your friend is waiting for ya outside the door."

Sure enough, Gerald was standing on his stoop through the window, gesturing for him to come out.

"I gotta go, guys. Thank you for breakfast!"

"Don't mention it, Kimba!"

"Have a good day, short man!"

And with that he entered the street below, where Gerald stood, arms folded, ready to take on another day as they always were.

"My man you seem to be in a good mood today."

"You're the third person to notice that this morning. And yes, I am," Arnold replied.

"Any particular reason?"

"Not really. Just the promise of a new day is enough for me."

"Well let's hope going to P.S. 118 doesn't change that. Let's go."

The two friends set off together for school, as the sun shone down on them on another glorious spring day; the cracked pavement of the sidewalk guiding their way throughout the neighborhood.

"So, I did some thinking about Trash Can Day yesterday but I wanted to run it by you first."

Arnold could tell Gerald was implying more than just a typical conversation between the two of them. He had sensed his best friend's hesitation the previous day and was testing the waters.

"Go ahead, run it by me. I'm all ears."

Gerald smiled as he explained some of the details of his plan.

"So, you know Mrs. Vitello's? We almost got there last year. I was thinking we could place two people on fourth street and one on the back-alleyway entrance to prevent any fourth grader from trying to escape there…"

"Don't forget Mr. Green's meat shop. He could be another potential safe house."

"True, but we can't be spread out too much. Or else we won't have enough people to actually trash can the fourth graders."

"Good point. Maybe we can block off the street leading out of the school. Harold and Stinky would be big enough I think…"

The conversation went back and forth between the two friends as they walked to school, and by the time they got there, they had formed the foundations of a plan. It needed some serious tinkering, but it was something until more details could be worked out.

As they approached the entrance to P.S. 118, several of their fellow classmates were sitting outside on the steps.

"Hi, Arnold and Gerald," Stinky drawled. "How are ya'll today?"

"Just frosty, Stinky," Gerald replied with a pointed finger.

"What were you guys talking about just now?" asked Sid.

"As a matter of fact, we were just discussing the plan for Trash Can Day," said Arnold. "We were thinking of starting out by-

He was then cut off by a familiar bossy tone.

"Quiet you numbskulls!" Helga chided them in a loud whisper. "Do you really want the enemy to know what we're up to on the first day?"

She gestured to two fourth graders who had taken an interest in their conversation nearby, to which she responded by growling and raising her fist at them.

"Buzz off, fourth graders! Unless you want to feel the wrath of old Betsy here!"

They didn't need to be told twice, as the two fourth grade boys scurried away.

"Huh, they scare easier than I thought," Helga said with a smile.

"Yeah but you scare everyone," Sid pointed out.

"What was that?" the blonde girl whirled around with a vengeance.

"Nothing!"

Gerald shook his head, knowing better than most not to test Helga's volatile temper.

"Anyway, everyone just relax. Arnold and I got a plan going. We have plenty time to iron it out. Ya dig?"

"Yeah, yeah whatever, hair boy. Just make sure you keep your yap shut before next Monday. It wouldn't be the first time and you and Arnoldo screwed something up."

And with that, Helga stomped off into the building, shoving an unsuspecting Eugene down the steps as she did so.

"I'm okay!"

The other four boys only watched, unsurprised as they had seen this sort of thing too many times to count.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Arnold muttered.

"Does she ever get up on the right side?" Gerald cracked.

"Touché, Gerald."

Just then the bell rang, signaling the start of school.

"Well, fellers. I reckon it's about that time," said Stinky.

And with that, they all headed inside to Mr. Simmons' classroom, lest they be tardy and receive detention from Principal Wartz.

The day went on like any other, as Mr. Simmons in his usual cheerful manner gave out a morning quiz and paired them up for projects that would be due the next week (Arnold was quietly relieved he had been paired with Phoebe this time around instead of Curly). Helga was no worse than usual- meaning that she fired her spitballs and Arnold, despite knowing it was her, could never catch her in the act.

He never thought about it much, because he knew getting upset would just be playing into Helga's hands. But now and again he wondered what he had done to draw the ire of the blonde girl. He had known her as long as he could remember and yet, as far as he knew, he had never done anything that could be considered offensive or belligerent towards her.

 _I need to test my theory at some point. Deep down I know there's more to her._

His inner dialogue was interrupted as the bell rang. It also spared him from being hit by spitball number sixty something (he had lost count by now). It was now time for lunch.

"Still think she's not that bad?" Gerald said, cracking a grin, as the class shuffled out of the room and into the hall.

"She makes it difficult at times," Arnold admitted. "But I'm convinced that she isn't all that she seems."

"How can you say that, Arnold? She literally threw sixty-two spitballs at you."

"Oh, that was the number?"

"I got bored listening to Simmons talk about algebra. The point is, the girl is just mean. No two ways about it."

"Okay then. Maybe you're right. But why would she kiss me last summer?"

Gerald shook his head.

"You're still on that? She even told you, herself. It was the heat of the moment."

"I don't know, Gerald. I want to believe you, but somehow, I can't. I can't shake the feeling that there's something more here."

As they walked down the hall they arrived in time to see Helga stuff something in her dress pocket, while at the same time, hit Brainy in the face with such force that it broke his glasses.

"Game. Set. Match," Gerald said triumphantly as they glanced at each other.

Arnold didn't feel like discussing the subject further, preferring in these moments to let his friend have the last word.

"Let's just go to lunch."

As they entered the cafeteria, however, it was Harold who was the first to greet them, and he was clearly amped up about something.

"You guys! You guys! The lunch ladies just threw out the entire batch of tuna surprise!"

This gave pause to the two boys.

"The entire batch?"

"That's right," said Phoebe who had come up to greet Gerald but explained the situation anyway. "Apparently, the latest catch was two weeks past the expiration date, making it inedible for human consumption. The lunch ladies just received word from the company who sold the fish."

"And it gets to sit in the garbage cans for almost a whole week!" laughed Harold. "You know what that means!"

"Trash Can Day is going to have a nasty surprise for those fourth graders," Gerald said crossing his arms. "Mm, mm, mm…who knew bad cafeteria food could have such a good use?"

This caused Phoebe to giggle, a fact that was not lost on Gerald, who gestured for her to grab a table with him, which she did rather happily.

Arnold and Harold followed them, as they again went outside to enjoy lunch.

"Hey, Arnold. How many fourth graders are you going to try and get?"

The blonde boy merely shrugged. "No idea, Harold. We've just been laying out the plan so far. Haven't really thought about it much."

"Well I'm going for the record. Wolfgang set it last year, but I think I can beat it!" and he pounded his large fist into his equally massive hand to emphasize the point.

The mention of Wolfgang made Arnold's stomach twinge a bit.

"Well, I hope you break it, Harold. It'll be a fun day for sure."

"Heck yeah!"

Walking over to the blacktop lunch table, Arnold could detect a faint, rotting smell over by the wall of the school. He looked and saw the lunch ladies dumping fish into the trash cans. For a split second, he imagined himself putting a fourth grader into one of those cans, all awash with stinking garbage.

 _Huh, tuna surprise._

* * *

Lunch came and went and with the ring of the bell (and quite a large belch from Harold) it was time to return to class.

Arnold, Gerald, Stinky, Sid, and Harold were all discussing baseball as they went back inside the school.

"I can't believe that anybody is going to beat the Yankees this year," Gerald said shaking his head. "They've only gotten better since they upset the Braves in the World Series."

"But they don't really have a true power hitter," Sid argued. "Now the Cleveland Indians on the other hand, they have at least six guys that can hit the long ball."

"Hitting home runs aren't everything, Sid," Arnold countered. "The Indians don't have the pitching to win it all. Now the Braves have three aces on one team. I don't see why they should be counted out."

"Well ya'll can harp on that statistical stuff. But I think the Florida Marlins have a real shot this year," Stinky chimed in.

"What?" Harold laughed. "The team named after a fish? No way they win the World Series!"

"I have to admit, the Marlins have improved this year," Gerald said rubbing his chin. "But they aren't good enough to beat the Braves or the Astros. Or the Yankees and Indians."

"Kinda have to go with, Gerald on that one, Stinky."

"Yeah!"

As they neared their home room, Arnold was about to point out that no team should be underestimated before the playoffs actually started in October, but he was not afforded the opportunity, as the next thing he knew he was being jerked into the boys' bathroom by an unknown force.

"What the-"

"Shhh! Relax, it's only me."

Arnold turned around and saw to his slight surprise it was a fourth grader named Robby Caldwell. He was considered something of the de facto spokesman for his grade and usually got along with most of the other students. He was shorter in stature to Arnold by about 2 inches but had a wirier frame. He had a short brown hair, green shirt and jeans, along with a few scattered freckles around the base of his nose. Arnold had never interacted with him much, but judging by the anxious look on Robby's face, he had a suspicion of what this was about.

"Robby?"

"Stay, quiet. I don't want any of your classmates to know we're talking."

"Is that why the faucet is still running?"

Robby glanced at the sink and turned off the water.

"Oh, forgot to turn it off. Anyway, I just wanted a chance to talk in private."

"This couldn't wait until after school?"

"Sorry, Arnold. Couldn't take the chance that you might be hanging out with the rest of the fifth graders."

The blonde boy tried to look curious as to what Robby wanted but he knew he didn't have much time before Mr. Simmons went looking for him.

"Look, Robby. I know you and the fourth graders are scared about Trash Can Day…"

"Thank goodness, you understand!"

"But-" he cut him off. "It's not a big deal. I went through it last year, the fourth graders before us went through it. It's nothing personal against you guys."

"Then why do it?" Robby asked.

Arnold supposed he didn't have a good answer for that. Truth be told, he didn't really know either.

"It's just tradition I guess," he said, echoing Gerald. "Anyway, like I said. Nothing personal."

"Arnold!" Robby practically shouted, and he began to fidget nervously. "You've already guessed why I pulled you in here, but I have to make my pitch anyway. Please, don't go through with Trash Can Day. Convince the other fifth graders to call it off."

Arnold had expected a plea of some sort not to get trash canned but asking him to convince his classmates to not go through with something they were looking forward to doing was probably unwise.

"Robby, I'm not sure I can do that. And even if I did, why are you asking me?"

"Because you're the only one who wouldn't laugh or pound me in the dirt for asking," and again Robby sounded audibly nervous. "Have you seen how big Harold is?...Anyway, everyone knows what a great guy you are. You always get people to see reason. Can't you do something?"

Arnold's first inclination was to politely decline and be on his way. But something about the fear in Robby's eyes was all too familiar. It was the same look, the same anxious foreboding that he had felt the previous year when facing down Wolfgang and his minions. He may not have been a fourth grader anymore, but he could never forget that. He could at least try to spare someone else the same thing.

"Alright, Robby. I must be crazy, but I'll talk to them."

The fourth grade boy immediately shook his hand vigorously, happiness abound on his freckled face.

"Thank you, Arnold! Thank you, so much!"

"Don't thank me yet. I can't promise anything."

But Robby didn't really listen as he sped out of the bathroom and into the hall, no doubt to tell the other fourth graders the good news.

Arnold immediately regretted letting Robby take advantage of his goodwill. He felt for him, but that didn't mean he was giddy at the prospect of asking his fellow fifth graders to cancel Trash Can Day. He couldn't see a scenario where they would agree to it.

Breathing a heavy sigh, he muttered to himself, "Man, what have I gotten myself into?"

* * *

 **Ah, the plot thickens! Our favorite do gooder has an interesting dilemma, one with no easy solution or perhaps no solution at all. Maybe our hero finally has a situation he can't solve, eh? Find out more in the next chapter!**

 **Also, I threw some 90s sports references in there, as I'm nostalgic for that decade. Hope you can catch them!**

 **~TheWasp**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, again!**

 **The Longest Monday Sequel is back with a brand new chapter. Arnold is in the midst of having to try and ask his friends not to do Trash Can Day. So how exactly is that going to turn out for him?**

 **I'm having a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you guys enjoy it.**

 **Please leave reviews! Thank you!**

 **Chapter 3. Of Benedict Arnold**

 _ **5 days before Trash Can Day**_

The next morning, the pit returned to Arnold's stomach with a vengeance and it did not relent throughout the day. Of course, it was no great mystery why. He hadn't been exactly been as gung-ho as some of his other classmates at the prospect of Trash Can Day, but he had been prepared to go along with it at the very least. Now that he had promised Robby to talk to his friends to prevent Trash Can Day, well…it wasn't something he was looking forward to.

He sat through Mr. Simmons teaching the history of the state, and its role in the American Revolution. West Point, the important military garrison that connected the colonies together, was discussed at length, its significance, and how a general named Benedict Arnold tried to betray the fort to the British.

"Arnold to this day is still considered the most notorious turncoat in our country's history," Mr. Simmons explained. "So much so, that it's been coined as a term for someone who betrays their friends and family."

Arnold swallowed, noticing his throat was quite dry. Learning about the nation's most infamous traitor certainly didn't ease the tension he felt, and the fact that he shared a name with said person was an unpleasant bonus.

Mulling his options, he juggled the idea of just blowing Robby off and not even bring up the subject. But in his heart of hearts, he knew he wouldn't be able to do that.

 _A promise is a promise. I have to try at the very least. If it doesn't work out, then that's that._

Still, easier said than done.

The school day was agonizingly slow, but eventually it ended as all school days did. Stinky had suggested that they play some baseball in the lot. The girls would not be joining them, as Rhonda had invited them all to sample the new Gelato shop downtown, and the tab would be paid by her parents of course.

"I can't believe she invited the girls but not us," Sid complained as they walked down the steps of P.S. 118 when the bell rang.

"Ah, who needs them," Stinky said dismissing the notion with a gangly arm. "That just means we got the whole lot to ourselves. A feller's day playing baseball."

"I'm hungry, though," Harold moaned as his stomach rumbled. "And free ice cream is still free ice cream."

"It ain't free, Harold," Gerald corrected. "Someone's paying that bill and it's not us. Let's just have some fun playing ball. Least Helga won't be there to boss us around this time. You coming, Arnold?"

The blonde boy had lingered behind his friends ever so slightly, trying to decide the best moment to bring up Trash Can Day, but had hesitated too long.

"Yeah, Gerald. I'm down."

"Excellent. Everyone take 15 minutes to find their gear and be at the lot by four."

Arnold did so, but as he went back to the boarding house the knot of dread still tied him up inside.

 _Maybe I can make them see reason,_ he thought optimistically. _Maybe they won't see a need for it if I just explain their side of it_.

But as he grabbed his bat and glove from his closet, he knew that nothing was guaranteed among his friends. Not even from Gerald.

As he walked back to the lot he saw Wolfgang again and the theme was all too familiar. This time he was being chased down the street by a local shopkeeper for spray painting a rather crude image on the outside of his shop.

"Can't catch me, old man!"

"Come back here you little weasel!"

Arnold frowned. Everyone in his class either feared or despised Wolfgang, usually a combination of both. So why was everyone so intent on following his example? Of every 5th grader that had come before them?

His thoughts were cut short as he reached the lot and Gerald called him over.

"Yo, Arnold! Bring that bat over, we need to practice fielding some ground balls."

For now, the boys were standing in a circle tossing a ball around between them, laughing and cracking jokes as they warmed up. Arnold quickly joined in.

"Heads up!" someone shouted, and Arnold quickly snagged a poorly thrown ball from Eugene, preventing it from going into the street.

"Nice catch, Arnold," Stinky complimented. "I reckon you got the best glove out of everyone here."

"But he ain't the best pitcher," Gerald said not to be outdone. "That honor belongs to me." And he gave his best friend a competitive grin.

"But he's got dangerous lumber!" Harold pointed out. "Remember when he beat Wolfgang last year with that home run?"

"Boy howdy, I thought that thing was going into orbit!"

Arnold smiled at the banter. He was modest by nature, but he appreciated his friends' praise of him all the same.

"Sure was a thing of beauty," Stinky reminisced as he got the ball from Iggy. "But it ain't likely the same thing is going to happen to us."

"That's right! They won't even show up to the field because they'll stink so bad from us putting them in the trash can!" Harold laughed, and the rest of the boys followed suit.

Arnold forced a grin, knowing what was going to happen next.

 _Here goes nothing._

"Yeah about that, guys. I was thinking…maybe we could just…call it off."

Predictably, everyone on the field stopped what they were doing, resulting in Eugene being hit in the head with the ball thrown by Sid.

"I'm okay," he groaned.

"Did I just hear that correctly?" Gerald asked, scratching his head.

"Call it off?"

"Wilikers."

"Crazy talk I tell ya! CRAZY!"

"Curly, cool it," Gerald said rolling his eyes. "You're already crazy. But Arnold, you're not making much sense either. Why do you want to call off Trash Can Day?"

All eyes were now on the oblong headed shaped boy, who struggled to find the right words to explain himself. He didn't want to throw Robby under the bus, but he also needed an alibi as to why he was going against this annual 5th grade tradition.

"Look, a few fourth graders came up to me the other day and they were concerned about the whole thing, and I think maybe they might have a point. Just because other people did it in the past doesn't mean we have to."

But evidently, this didn't soften the hearts of his classmates.

"Arnold, Trash Can Day is a tradition passed on from kid generation to kid generation," explained Sid. "You can't just get rid of something like that."

"Yeah, it's just a harmless bit of fun," Stinky drawled.

"Personally, I wanted to write a musical about it," Eugene said in his usual pleasant tone. "Especially when we had to escape the clutches of Wolfgang and his evil minions…" He pulled out a harmonica, blew into it and started to hum a tune but he was interrupted by Harold.

"Shut up, Eugene! No wants to hear a stupid song right now!" He then pointed a fat finger towards Arnold in an accusatory manner. "But Arnold's taking orders from a bunch of fourth graders!"

"No, I'm not," Arnold argued. "I just heard them out and promised to try and talk to you guys about this."

Sensing things were getting a bit heated, Gerald stepped in.

"Alright, everyone, take it easy. Arnold isn't taking any orders from any fourth grader. More than likely they just took advantage of his good nature to avoid getting trash canned."

He turned towards his best friend with a look skepticism.

"My man, I get that you feel bad for the fourth graders. But no one is going to skip out on Trash Can Day for their sake. This is something we've been looking forward to since the day _we_ got trash canned. Besides, it isn't like we're actually hurting them."

Arnold nodded, but it wasn't the response he was hoping for. The fact that even Gerald seemed to sympathize very little for the fourth graders somewhat disappointed him. He understood the appeal of Trash Can Day, and he hadn't exactly been thrilled with the idea of trying to get his friends to call it off. But a promise was a promise.

"Okay, if that's how you guys feel about it." He wasn't going to press the issue further than that.

"I'm glad you see it our way, buddy," Gerald smiled. "Now let's go play some baseball."

Arnold hesitated. If the guys weren't being cooperative, perhaps he'd find more luck with the girls.

"That's okay, guys. I'll catch up with you later. I just remembered I have to go do something."

His friends gave him suspicious looks, especially Gerald, but they didn't say anything and merely shrugged.

"You, sure?" Gerald asked him.

"Yeah, I won't be long. You can borrow my bat until I get back."

"Okay, Arnold. Catch you later."

The blonde boy picked up the baseball and tossed it to Stinky, taking his glove with him as he went in the direction of Massino's Gelato Parlor.

"Later, guys."

And he walked off without another moment's hesitation, leaving the rest of the boys slightly confused.

"You don't think he's going to chicken out, do you?" Sid asked as he watched Arnold cross the street and into an alleyway shortcut.

"Nah," Gerald dismissed. "Arnold may be too noble for his own good sometimes, but he wouldn't go against his own grade."

He paused, waiting so no one could hear him mutter under his breath.

"I hope."

* * *

True to form, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd had chosen the most expensive place in town to get ice cream, and it just so happened to be run by a wealthy Italian ice cream magnate who had decided to test his fortunes in the United States.

Arnold was relatively unfamiliar with the location, but after checking around the downtown blocks, he eventually found the shop, in part due to the sheer volume of Rhonda's voice.

He braced himself, knowing how the wealthy socialite liked to hold court, furthermore it had been a girls only event so he didn't want to step on any toes.

 _Then again, if Helga is there, that might be inevitable._

Of course, she was and so were the rest of the girls. It was easily the nicest building on the block, or rather it was the newest which usually entitled a new business that distinction. The glass was spotless, with fancy cursive writing that said 'Massino's'. The decorations included an Italian flag with golden embroidery on the side.

Yup, this sure was Rhonda's kind of place.

He took a deep breath before approaching the group, who were all sitting outside, enjoying themselves while Rhonda's parents supervised.

"So, then I said, 'Stacy, I don't care what your mother did the other day. That's no excuse for wearing the same designer jean skirt two days in a row.' Oh…hey, Arnold."

The girls looked over to see a familiar oblong headed boy standing behind the railing of the shop.

"What the heck are you doing here football head?" spat a familiar aggressive voice.

 _Yup, Helga's right on cue_ , he thought, half bored, half amused by the age old nickname.

"Ugh, please excuse the behavior of one of our more uncultured associates, Arnold" Rhonda sniffed imperiously. "But I am curious why you're here. You know this was a girls only outing."

"Yeah, I know," Arnold said, fully aware of several sets of eyes were gazing on him (girls were a bit harder to read than guys). "I didn't mean to interrupt you guys, but I just needed to ask you all something."

"Well what is it, Arnold?" Phoebe asked politely.

"Uh, well…"

"Just spit it out, paste for brains!"

 _You never make anything easy, Helga,_ he thought irritably.

"Look, it's about Trash Can Day. Some of the fourth graders came up and talked to me, and they're not feeling all that great about this upcoming Monday."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't be either if I was about to get dumped into a can full of tuna surprise," Helga said with a sarcastic laugh.

"Speaking of which, how's the planning with Gerald coming along?" Nadine asked.

"Fine…look that's not really the point," Arnold said trying to keep his focus. "I was just wondering if you guys might consider not participating? It's really not that big of a deal."

"Not a big deal? Have you gone nuts, Arnoldo?" Helga asked, her unibrow shooting upwards. "Or is that football head of yours going loopier than usual?"

"I must confess, I was kind of looking forward to it," Phoebe said putting a finger on her chin.

"Me too," agreed Sheena and the rest of the girls followed suit.

Arnold realized he wasn't winning here either, so he played his trump card, something that might get them to reconsider.

"Rhonda, what about all the garbage you'll have to touch? I mean, you probably won't want to ruin your outfit."

Knowing how she could be about her clothes and hygiene, Arnold figured Rhonda might back out if she realized she'd actually have to put a fourth grader in a trash can and thereby run the risk of getting the contents on her person.

"Well I appreciate your concern Arnold and your sense of proper style certainly has improved," she said gesturing with her hand in a rather feminine way. "But I will come prepared. My parents already bought me the finest rubber gloves and goggles so as not to come home unsanitary."

"Yeah, God forbid, princess over there gets a little dirt on her skirt," Helga muttered to Phoebe who snickered in response.

"Anyway, why do you care anyway?" Rhonda asked. "They're just fourth graders."

"We can't wait to see what you and Gerald come up with," Nadine said excitedly.

"That is, if you're still up to it," Helga said crossing her arms in a disapproving way. "Or are you going to chicken out and go all moral on us?"

As with the guys, Arnold decided he had enough trying to convince them to call off Trash Can Day. He hadn't promised Robby anything other than that, and clearly this was a waste of time.

"It's fine. Forget I asked," he said a bit sheepishly. "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Enjoy the ice cream."

"Okay then, see you, Arnold."

"Bye, Arnold!"

"Don't get lost on the way home, football head!"

Arnold sighed as he left the girls and headed down back towards the boarding house. He hadn't exactly expected rousing approval from his friends with acting on the fourth graders' behalf, but the situation left him feeling worse than ever. Despite not wanting to help Robby at first, he found he was increasingly at odds with himself. The more he thought about it, the more he disapproved of Trash Can Day, and yet he was powerless to prevent it. The cycle of bigger kids picking on the littler ones, as it always had been.

His mind led him back to Helga. As much as he believed there was more to her than just a mean scowl and taunts, at times she made that belief increasingly difficult.

 _Just for once, I wish she'd just be nice. And to know what she's really like when she's not calling people names or making fun of me._

He paused, glanced over his shoulder and saw the blonde girl was staring back at him with a look that appeared…sympathetic, serene…even happy. He narrowed his eyes just to make sure, but just as soon as he gazed closer, the scowl was back, staring at him with hard dislike.

He sighed. It had probably just been his imagination. But as he continued to walk away, a part of him wanted to believe that it hadn't been. And that happy look had been genuine.

Just this once.

* * *

 **Not much luck for our favorite football head, eh? So where can the plot possibly go from here? Stick around to find out. The next chapter will be up very soon!**

 **~TheWasp**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, my fellow readers. I'm back with another chapter of the story. And as with my other fic, I'm going to respond to every review I get. So let's get started shall we?**

 **starfiction123-** Thank you! Always good to break the mold! I'm having a blast writing it :)

 **EnvytheSkunk-** Much appreciated! More chapters are up if you want to take a look.

 **Guest-** I'm pretty much assuming Arnold's class are the only fifth graders.

 **Call Me Nettie-** Well we shall see, won't we? Tradition is not easily broken as they say.

 **The Rhombus-** Honestly, the scenes with Arnold's grandparents and the boarders are some of the funniest in the series. Writing that part made myself laugh a couple of times haha. I believe that Arnold has, in some capacity, been able to see through Helga's mean exterior just not all the way through, hence he's still a bit clueless. But he's closer to figuring out the truth than before. Indeed, Robby getting involved completely shakes things up and Arnold finds himself in another moral dilemma. You won't be disappointed with what's coming!

 **DeepVoice'06-** Thank you for your support and kind words! I actually browsed through the Hey Arnold archives to make sure no one had done the idea before. I really wanted it to read like an actual episode in the series so I'm glad I've been able to achieve that thus far. Like I said to Rhombus, my general sense is that Arnold is 'catching on' but still miffed by her bullying behavior. She actually plays a bigger part in this story you think. Buckle your seat belt because it's only going to get more intense from here!

 **Ezza-** I hope he can too. Who the hell wants to be put into a trash can, amiright?

 **Anyway, that wraps up responding to reviews. Thank you all for supporting this story and leaving your thoughts and comments. I hope you will continue to do so.**

 **So as we left it, Arnold failed to convince his classmates to call off Trash Can Day. What's he going to tell the fourth graders? Well we're about to find out!**

 **As always, hit that review button and enjoy!**

 **Chapter 4. The Gauntlet**

 ** _4 days before Trash Can Day_**

Helga Pataki was all too familiar with Arnold's high mindedness and tendency to always do the right thing. It was one of the traits she frequently ridiculed him for and would never let him hear the end of it. This time was no different. With Trash Can Day looming around the corner, the perpetual do-gooder had tried to guilt them all once more into sparing the fourth graders out of some misplaced sense of self righteousness.

As the beginning of the school day neared, the blonde girl hid behind the steps leading up to the school building and contemplated her thoughts as she always did.

"Arnold," she sneered. "What a dweeb, what a yutz, what a geek! As if he actually has any control over whether or not we get to stick those dopey fourth graders into trash cans. How I despise him!"

Peering over the top of the steps, as well as in front of her and on her side, she narrowed her eyes and pulled out the locket she had made when she was six years old.

"And yet…I love him! Oh, Arnold! My football headed love god! So noble, so courageous. Even now, you stand up for the common decency of every kid in P.S. 118, while I continually mock and discredit you at every turn. Why can I not hold the same standards for myself? Why do I participate in this barbarity that you rightly hold to be immoral? If I only I could support you openly. If I only I could tell you how I really feel. If only…"

"Helga?"

The blonde girl nearly jumped ten feet in the air at the unexpected voice.

 _Criminy! Why does everyone feel the need to interrupt me when I'm in one of my romantic monologues about Arnold?!_

Thankfully, this time around, it was not her crush that had interrupted her thoughts, but her best friend, Phoebe, who was staring at her from around the bottom of the steps.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously.

"Phoebe! For crying out loud don't sneak up on me like that!" she said, still panting heavily.

"My apologies, Helga," said Phoebe in her usual polite manner. "I was looking for you to see if you wanted to go to the park after school. It's a lovely day after all…what are you doing anyway?"

"None of your business!" Helga shot at her as she hastily stuck her locket back in her dress pocket.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. In the past, such a response would have cowered her but by now she knew her best friend enough to know her reaction when she was caught doing something embarrassing or secretive. And she had sneaking guess as to what it was this time.

"Helga, you wouldn't happen to be staring at the picture of-

Without warning, Phoebe suddenly had a hand around her mouth.

"Will you shut it! Are you trying to make me become the laughingstock of the school?" Helga whispered loudly, the anxiety clear within her crystal blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," Phoebe responded a bit sheepishly. "I didn't mean to speak so loudly. But Helga, your affections for Ar…ice cream, aren't exactly a secret. At least not to me."

"Phoebe, you know because I allow you to know. If that suddenly changed, I would kidnap you, take you to the CIA, and brainwash you until you had no memory of any of our conversations about…ice cream."

The half Japanese girl still marveled that they continued to use their old code name for their football headed classmate. But as always, she acquiesced to Helga's wishes.

"If you don't want other people to know, that's perfectly fine with me. You know I would never tell," she reassured her best friend. "But I think maybe it's time to start to seriously consider the possibility of telling him."

"What?! And become the butt of all jokes in this dump? To be scorned by everyone I know? To find out that he doesn't love me back?"

It was in moments like these that Phoebe could really see the vulnerability and fear in Helga's psyche. She was no expert in the field of human emotion, but she could see that this issue took an enormous toll on her, along with everything else she had to deal with.

"I'm not saying you have to do anything right now, Helga. But sooner or later you're going to have to make your feelings known…at least if you want any sort of closure."

For once, Helga didn't have sort or rude or snarky comeback to dish out. She simply took Phoebe's words in, realizing she was right, but had no intention of admitting that openly.

"Whatever, Pheebs," she said almost defeatedly. "The bell's about to ring. Let's go."

And she stomped off without giving the matter another word.

Phoebe checked her watch, and for once, Helga had been right as it was a minute until the clock struck nine.

Feeling tremendous sympathy for her best friend, she still couldn't shake the sense that Helga was doing herself more harm than good.

* * *

Recess arrived, and the fifth graders were prepared to get a basketball game going.

"Alright, it's that time of the day once again," Gerald said as he spun the ball on his finger. "Arnold and I are captains. Everyone else, line up."

"Aw, you're always captain, Gerald," Harold complained.

"That's because whoever gets me on their team automatically wins," Gerald said in a confident tone. "Only fair I get to choose my own team."

Arnold rolled his eyes slightly. Gerald always had a bit of an arrogant streak when it came to sports. So whenever they played against each other, he always played him as competitively as possible.

 _Never hurts to take him down a peg_ , he thought as an idea came into his head.

Noticing the ball was still spinning on Gerald's finger, Arnold quickly tapped the ball out of his hand, stole it away and shot a long range shot. Though he believed his aim to be true, the ball hit the back rim with a loud *clang and bounced back towards the chain fence about twenty feet away.

"My man, when will you ever learn you can't shoot the three?"

"Couldn't resist, Gerald," Arnold replied with a cheeky grin.

"Yeah, well you can go get the ball back seeing you felt the need to steal it from me," Gerald said gesturing towards the fence.

Arnold obliged, and he walked toward the fence by the dumpster, which was getting fuller by the day and smelling even worse.

 _That's more rancid than the time we had to eat beans for three straight days while camping out together_ , he thought, wrinkling his nose. He didn't envy any fourth grader put in that stuff the upcoming Monday.

Just as he reached fence, he heard a hoarse whisper from behind the dumpster.

"Arnold!" it hissed.

He looked over and saw it was Robby Caldwell, who was gesturing for him to come closer. Sighing, he reluctantly complied and decided to find out what he was up to, although he had an idea.

"Robby, what are you doing?" he asked in an almost bored tone.

"What does it look like?" the freckle faced boy replied in the same whisper. "I'm talking to you in secret."

"We really have to start meeting in more sanitary places," Arnold muttered. "And it's not really secret when anyone could walk back here and see that you're behind a dumpster."

"Well, other than wanting to talk with none of your friends around, I figured I better get used to the smell…you know come Monday?" and he gave an anxious grin.

Arnold could sense his fear from a mile away.

"Robby, come on…"

The fourth grader's face shifted into that of a wide eyed, sad puppy dog.

"Please tell me you managed to convince your friends not to go through with Trash Can Day."

There was no use in lying to him, and Arnold was never one to hold back the truth. He would give it to Robby straight.

"I'm sorry, but they're pretty set on doing it."

Immediately, Robby's features took on those of absolute terror.

"Arnold, you have to do something. If you don't, me and the rest of the fourth graders are going to be squashed in a trash can with rotten tuna!"

"I don't know what else you want me to do. I promised you I'd try to talk to them about it. But I never guaranteed anything."

Even though he wasn't trying to be mean, he still couldn't help but feel bad for not being able to assist more. He had never been one hundred percent comfortable with Trash Can Day. But he was equally reluctant to go against his classmates.

"I really am sorry, Robby. But I don't see a way out of this for you guys."

"I was afraid you'd say that," the fourth grader said sadly. "But maybe there's something I can show that could help change your mind?"

"What's that?"

Just then, Gerald's voice rang out across the blacktop.

"Yo, Arnold! What's taking you so long man?"

"Just a second!" he called back. He then turned his attention to Robby.

"Make it quick. Where and when?"

"The old junkyard. Four thirty. Come alone."

Arnold didn't know what to make of that, but nonetheless he agreed.

"Alright. I'll be there."

Quickly, he picked up the basketball by the fence and headed back over to the court, trying to disregard the conversation he just had so as to not look suspicious.

"What was that all about?" Gerald asked him as Arnold told tossed him the ball. "Looked like you were doing something behind the dumpster."

"Eh…thought I saw a twenty."

"Boy Howdy!"

"Alright! Mr. Fudgey bars after school today!" Harold yelled excitedly.

"Harold, I said I thought I saw a twenty. It was just monopoly money."

"Aww, man! No ice cream again? I'm so hungry!"

"Do you ever think about anything except your stomach?" Gerald asked. "Anyway, let's get this game going."

He shot a quick layup as everyone else lined up to get picked. As they did so, Arnold couldn't help but notice a smaller kid sneaking off in the other direction. Shaking his head, he could only imagine what Robby wanted to show him.

* * *

The junkyard was the same as he remembered it. Around since longer than anyone could recall, it housed all of the factory parts, old cars, scrap metal, and any other kind of castoff item you could think of. Other than scrounging an occasional pipe or two for a project, not many kids ventured into it (it technically was off limits, but no one cared much for city ordinances).

Arnold, who had ridden his bike to get there, gazed around the lot. It was eerily quiet, other than the hum of the city in the background. The bright sun shone directly on the scraps below, creating an interesting contrast between nature and metal.

In fact, this kind of day brought back Arnold to the last time he had been here, a day that was becoming increasingly relevant as the week went on. This was the area he and Gerald had escaped to after surviving the first round of trash canning from Wolfgang and his crew. They had found Park's safehouse shortly thereafter.

"I wonder…" he murmured to himself.

Just then, Robby pulled up along side him on his own bike.

"Hey, Arnold! Glad you made it," he said cheerfully.

It was the first time all week, Arnold had seen the fourth grader with an actual smile on his face, as opposed to a look of anxiety or fear.

"Well we're here. What is it that you wanted to show me?"

Robby wasted no time. He jumped off his bike and lead Arnold through the junkyard maze until they finally arrived at a random door that appeared to have once belonged to an old car.

"Seem familiar?" Robby asked.

"Very."

They opened it to reveal a ladder that descended into a much larger complex. As they climbed down, Arnold remembered exactly what this was.

"Of course…this was the room Park used last year as a safehouse on Trash Can Day...before Wolfgang found it of course."

He looked around the space and saw that much had been damaged or destroyed. Chairs were upturned, buckets in disarray, empty chip bags and soda bottles were everywhere. And if to symbolize the point, and of their failure, a giant trash can sat in the middle of the room from where Wolfgang had thrown it.

"I never figured out how they found this place. We thought no fifth grader knew about it," he said aloud.

"Rumor has it, someone ratted you out," Robby replied. "From your own grade. That's just what I heard."

That didn't surprise Arnold. He supposed one of the kids that had been trash canned earlier that day had given out the information just to be spared from being put into more filth.

"I can't believe this place is still here."

"We were planning on using it ourselves," Robby said quietly. "You know…for when our own time comes."

There was something poignant in the fourth grader's words that made Arnold pause. For there was a brief moment where he saw himself in Robby again. Only this time it was much stronger and familiar.

"Then why are you showing me this?" Arnold asked in all seriousness. "Wouldn't it be better to keep it a secret?"

"Because I have faith," Robby replied. "Not only that you won't tell the other fifth graders, but maybe one day this room won't have to be used at all. That there won't be a need for Trash Can Day."

That was a speech he might have used at one point or another had the circumstances called for it. It was admirable without a doubt, but it didn't change the fact that Trash Can Day was still coming. And of the two boys in the safehouse, one was a fourth grader and the other a fifth grader. Arnold didn't have the heart to tell him that it was he and Gerald that were coming up with the plan to prevent any escapees…this would fall under that category.

"And what if I do tell the other fifth graders?" he asked hypothetically. "What if we find you in this place and it happens all over again?"

For once, Robby didn't look scared. Merely somewhat resigned.

"The choice is yours," he answered. "I just wanted to show you that we have nothing to hide."

"Do the other fourth graders know about this?"

"They do. Not all of them were on board with it."

"I'm not surprised."

Silence followed, and it was then that Arnold knew what Robby was getting at. Rather than waiting to be trash canned, he threw down the gauntlet instead. The ball was in their court. The fifth graders of Mr. Simmons' class would decide whether to keep the tradition of Trash Can Day…or end it.

"They might not be too happy with you come this Monday," Arnold said softly, but bluntly.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Robby shrugged. "Gives us all more time to think."

Arnold could feel a headache coming on. He had had enough thinking for one day and he needed a few hours of his time not stuck on Trash Can Day.

"I need to go walk, Abner," he muttered. "See ya, Robby."

"See ya, Arnold."

He climbed the ladder back out of the safehouse, walked back towards his bike and began to ride home; his headache growing worse, and his position now even more complicated than it had been ever before.

* * *

 **Bit of a twist, eh? I can only imagine what Arnold's going to do next...or how Helga will factor into this ;)**

 **Stay tuned! Next update won't be long.**

 **~The Wasp**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, guys.**

 **Here's another chapter of the story. It took a little longer than I originally intended, but it's finally here. It's the longest chapter thus far and a bit slow, but also very important to the overall conclusion, so keep your eyes out.**

 **Between this and my other fics, I've never been writing so much at one time. It's pretty awesome. I really hope you guys are enjoying this fic:) You won't be disappointed with what's coming.**

 **The Rhombus-** You're not entirely off base at all with Helga, but her insecurities are a classic case of someone who wants to be loved but is afraid of getting rejected as she already has been neglected too many times in her life. Yet, beneath it all, she has such a strong, passionate heart, capable of tremendous good. And you're right as Arnold is running out of time, and now it is truly up to him on what happens on Monday.

 **Call Me Nettie-** We will see;) keep reading to find out

 **backgroundshipper-** Yes, you will find out who ratted on them. Also I'm just keeping the focus on the 5th graders of Mr. Simmons' class.

 **Ezza-** I'd say you're onto something ;) indeed this is quite the moral dilemma.

 **Ajay435-** Robby is supposed to half sympathetic/half annoying. Even though he's really putting this problem on Arnold, he's also getting him to think more about the situation. And I can safely say it wasn't Helga who ratted everyone out in the 'Longest Monday' episode. She's many things, but she's not a squealer.

 **Envy the Skunk-** I think the secret lair occurs when the Patakis move into the Beeper Emporium haha. Indeed, Arnold has a decision to make on whether or not to reveal the secret location or not. Not an easy position to be in. And I do think Wolfgang and Edmund are good trackers (Wolfgang at least lol) but they're not above threats to get what they want. I imagine they had some help. Your guesses as to who it was are pretty good.

 **DeepVoice'06-** I'm glad you caught on to Phoebe's assertiveness. Her disposition will never mirror that of Helga, but in TJM she was definitely more confident as a person. I'd like to think that this personal growth does occur during their 5th grade year. The fourth graders look up to Arnold in part because he's a good guy but they also know he's their only hope of not getting trash canned. I can't say much at this point, but Helga definitely plays a factor here.

 **Thank you all for keeping up with this story. It means a lot! As always, hit that review button! And enjoy!**

 **Chapter 5. Ominous Dilemma**

 ** _Three days until Trash Can Day_**

The walk to school the following morning was not a comfortable one for Arnold. Most days he looked forward to his walks to school with Gerald. Today was not one of them.

With the knowledge of Robby's desire to use the hideout they themselves had used the previous year, he was unsure of what to do with that information. He had more or less insinuated to the fourth grader that he might as well given up their last hope at not being trash canned…well at the very least he had suggested he would tell his classmates.

So why hadn't he?

"The Friday before Trash Can Day," Gerald said with a hint of relish. "This is a big day, Arnold."

He gestured at a building where multiple people where already dumping out their trash in preparation for pick up on Tuesday.

"Those cans are getting mighty full, my friend. And after the weekend, they'll be stockpiled with garbage, bottles, beer cans, and anything else you can think of.

"Speaking of which," he continued as they walked down the street, "I finalized the plan for Monday, and I want to know what you think."

"Go ahead," Arnold replied absentmindedly.

"Alright, so when the three thirty bell rings, we'll have Helga, Rhonda, Sid, and Nadine in the hall to disorganize them. Then, as they try to escape outside, Harold and Stinky block the exit to the street. You and I and the other fifth graders will close in and entrap them in a circle. We pick them off one by one. Here's the kicker though- instead of putting them all in individual trash cans, we use the giant dumpster by the fence. Saves us time and the effort of chasing them all down. Pretty clever if I do say so myself."

Arnold nodded, not really knowing what to say, but Gerald of course was eager to have his input.

"Well? What do you think? This plan is on us, my man. The reputation of Trash Can Day depends on it."

"Can't see anything wrong with it," Arnold tried to say casually as they rounded the corner to school. But it was hard to sneak anything past his best friend, and Gerald must have caught his hesitation as the next moment he received a raised an eyebrow.

"Arnold, you okay? We've been working on this plan for the entire week and all of a sudden you don't seem that enthusiastic. Is there something you're not telling me?"

For a brief moment in time, the internal conflict within the blond boy seemed to clash within his head. On the one hand, there was his friends, his fellow fifth graders; did he not have an obligation, a sense of loyalty to those he had known since preschool? On the other, he did not feel any sort of loyalty to the tradition of Trash Can Day, or inclination to participate in it. Robby had basically given away everything the fourth graders planned to do that day. So why was he not breathing every word of it to his best friend right then and there?

There was no doubt, he had a decision to make.

"No, Gerald, I'm fine. I just had a crazy dream last night."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I had a dream my Grandpa was jumping across a bunch of school buses with his Packard. Kind of like Evel Knievel doing one of those stunts."

Thankfully, Gerald believed him and started to laugh.

"Oh man, that's hilarious. Actually, I could see your grandpa doing something like that. He's done crazier things. Remember when he told us he won the Battle of the Bugle by himself and turned out to be right?"

"Don't remind me," Arnold chuckled. "He's 82 years old. I'd rather not see him attempt anything that could break his hip."

The conversation had the desired outcome. Gerald was one of many kids in his grade enamored with his zany grandfather. His stories and tall tales never failed to catch the attention of anyone within earshot who happened to be listening. But Arnold couldn't help but sense the irony in the situation, as he was telling a tall tale himself to get out of an uncomfortable situation.

More so than that, he had opted not to tell his best friend critical information that would surely help them in pursuing a successful Trash Can Day, a name that Arnold was fast coming to loathe. He did not want to go against his fellow fifth graders, but his overpowering sense of morality had won out as it usually did.

 _I just can't do this_ , he thought sadly. _I can't stick anyone in a trash can._

Of course, that left the obvious dilemma: What the hell was he going to do now?

* * *

All throughout the morning lesson, Arnold had a hard time focusing on his school work. Mr. Simmons was normally an engaging teacher, but the problem at hand was occupying his brain too much for him to care much about biology.

He couldn't help but think back on the conversation he had had with Gerald they had that morning. It had encapsulated the entire attitude towards the fifth grade holiday; that of tradition and inevitability. It had also summed up his attitude in general towards Trash Can day; that of reluctance and defiance. He supposed avoiding telling Gerald about the fourth grader's plan to use Park's old hideout was the last crucial test in his decision not participate in the canning of smaller, hapless fourth graders.

So where did that leave him? Even if he did not engage in Trash Can Day, could he stand idlily by while his classmates made mincemeat out of those who were smaller and weaker? After all, what did they do to deserve it? Yet, what right, or rather ability, did he have to stop it?

 _Agh_

Arnold could feel a headache coming, brought on by the future complications of Monday afternoon. To put it plainly, there was no easy way out of this situation he was in. It seemed almost destined that fourth graders and fifth graders would be mortal enemies, a vicious cycle in which one preyed on the other mercilessly until trumpets rang and bells sound.

 _Unless…_

It was then that a lightbulb went off in Arnold's head. Though the idea was a longshot, it just might work. It wasn't as if he had another choice, not if Robby and his fellow fourth graders wanted to avoid being put into trash cans.

Often, choices were the lesser of two evils anyway.

* * *

"What's up guys?"

The rest of the fifth grade table looked up at the oblong headed boy with a degree of causality and indifference.

"Hey, Arnold."

"What's up, Arnold?"

"Willikers, we thought you were skipping out on us."

He gladly took a seat at the outside table they had been eating at for years, careful not to give anything away too soon.

"So, guys. The weekend is coming up and the weather forecast looks pretty good. What do you say we play some football at Gerald Field, this afternoon?"

His best friend was the first one to approve of course, but the rest were not quite as eager.

"Arnold, it's baseball season. The Super Bowl was in January and John Elway finally won a ring," Sid attempted to explain. "We don't regroup for football until the end of August."

"Yeah, everyone knows that!" Harold said obnoxiously, as he belched from eating a steak sandwich.

The blond boy knew he had to think quick on his feet in order to sell this.

"I know, Sid. But the way I see it, having a game or two in the offseason couldn't hurt. Besides, it would be boring to play baseball every single day right?"

He could sense his classmates hesitation, yet there was no good reason _not_ to play football at the same time.

"I guess we could play a small game, right?" Nadine shrugged.

"Why not?" Eugene chimed in happily. "It is the new favorite past time of America. In fact, I think I'll write a song about it. Oh-"

"Eugene, that's not necessary," Gerald interrupted, not in the mood to stand witness to another one of his corny made up songs. On the other hand, he couldn't help but be a tiny bit suspicious of his best friend's sudden desire to play football in May. Arnold never did anything without a good reason. However, he wasn't about to think that such a reason had ill intent, so he decided to play along for now.

"Alright, what time?"

"Four o'clock sound good?"

The others nodded in agreement, as Arnold sat down next to Gerald at the lunch table, smiling to himself. The hard part was out of the way.

 _Now for step two_

* * *

It didn't take long for Arnold to find his next target: Robby Caldwell. The fourth graders had Recess right before they did, so he hung back as his class went outside, while the fourth graders came back in. He managed to weave through the crowd and locate Robby. Thankfully, he wasn't preoccupied in any conversations with his fellow classmates. It made things a little easier on his end.

"Hey, Robby."

The freckle face, brunette quickly saw Arnold coming towards him and moved to the side of the hallway to allow them to talk without bumping into anyone.

"Arnold," he said with slight surprise in his voice. "What's going on?" He looked nervously over his shoulder. "None of your 5th grade friends are around, right?"

"They're all outside," Arnold reassured him. "I just wanted to talk to you quickly."

"What about?"

"My friends and I are having a football game this afternoon at the old vacant lot. The problem is, we don't have enough people to play a full game. We were wondering if you and your friends wanted to come and fill in?"

Robby didn't look completely thrilled with the idea. Any other week of the year he would have happily acquiesced, but the circumstances were not in favor of any fourth grader interacting with any fifth graders. There was also the factor that despite Arnold's trustworthy, honest reputation, he still didn't fully trust him.

"I don't know…" he said, his eyes not meeting the blond boy in front of him.

"Robby, I promise. Nothing is going to happen to you or any other fourth grader."

"At least not until Monday."

"This isn't about that," Arnold said, waving away any connection to Trash Can Day. "This is just a friendly game of football. It's just me and some close friends. You have nothing to worry about."

This seemed to do enough to convince Robby of his good intentions. Well they _were_ good intentions. That didn't mean he had to tell the fourth grader everything right away. As open and honest as he tried to be, certain situations allowed for the stretching of the truth.

"Alright, Arnold. I'll get some people together and meet you there. What time?"

"Let's say, 4:15?"

The fourth grader nodded.

"We'll see you there."

And he walked off along with the rest of the fourth graders back to class. Arnold knew Robby was still anxious about a possible double cross, but he need not worry. If all went according to plan, both sides would end up happy by the end of the day.

The fate of Trash Can Day depended on it.

* * *

Helga tapped her foot impatiently, as she stood on Gerald Field, her usual scowl in full force.

"Where is that stupid football head?" she growled. "He said four o'clock."

"I reckon it's only five minutes past the hour," Stinky observed.

"Yeah? Since when you have a watch?"

"I don't. Me and my family can tell the time by looking at the sun in the sky," the gangly boy pointed out.

"Yeah? Can your folksy wisdom tell you what time you're going to meet Betsy and the Five Avengers?" Helga snapped at him.

Gerald figured it was time to intervene.

"Alright, relax guys. Arnold volunteered to bring the ball, so he's just going back to his place to get it. He won't be long."

It was enough to diffuse the tension, although Helga's temper seemed to be more volatile than usual, so no one dared to engage it a second time. Gerald was content to let Helga stew in her own animosity as long it didn't get out of control. Of course, the funny thing was he couldn't remember the last time she had actually hit someone other than Brainy.

 _Come to think of it, has she beaten someone up since preschool? It's always 'Betsy and the Five Avengers' with her. But what's the point? Why does she always act like she's really to explode on everyone? Especially, Arnold._

Gerald didn't usually bother with those kinds of thoughts. He preferred a simple approach to life, and in the world he knew, Helga G. Pataki was just a bullying menace who kept others at a distance on pain of death…at least that's what she wanted people to think.

He had never bothered to question that fact, but lately he had been holding his own private doubts. Partially it was due to Arnold, however, the more he really thought about the situation, the more things didn't add up. Helga was mean to everyone, yet she seemed most intent on making life miserable for the most upstanding kid in school. And then there was the incident that his best buddy had told him about last summer; the kiss on top of the FTI building that had seemingly come out of nowhere. He hadn't been there for that of course and at the time he had simply dismissed it as the actions of a girl who was a few fries short of a happy meal.

Gerald glanced briefly at Helga, looking as mean and unpleasant as ever, his curiosity piqued.

 _Maybe there's more to this than I originally thought…_

His thoughts were interrupted as Arnold finally returned, a football in his arms, ready for action.

"Hey, guys. Sorry I'm a bit late. My grandparents made me collect the rent from the one of the tenants." And he began tossing the ball around.

"Yeah, yeah whatever, hair boy," Helga spat. "We ready to play or what?"

"Can I be a captain this time?" Sid asked.

"You were captain last time!"

"Wait a minute, guys," Arnold interrupted before the chattering got too loud. "We're still waiting on some people."

This raised the eyebrows of many of his friends.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mention it before. I invited some additional people to the game. I figured the more the merrier."

"Well fine, as long as they don't take too much longer," Rhonda said impatiently. "I have dinner tonight at Chez Paris with my mother and father. It's a very exclusive reservation." (Nadine rolled her eyes)

"I'm tired of waiting! Let's get this game started already!" Harold yelled, and was subsequently hit in the head by an errant pass from Stinky.

Others were a little more suspicious, including Gerald.

"Buddy, what's going on here?" he asked in a way that usually got his best friend to tell the truth. "You didn't tell us more people were coming."

Arnold simply shrugged. "Guess I forgot to mention it. It's not a big deal. In fact, they should be here just about now."

True to his words, a group of kids came into view, crossing the street from the back alleyway and were headed towards the field.

"Were those the fellers you were talkin bout Arnold?" Stinky asked, narrowing his eyes to get a better look.

"I believe so."

As the group neared towards the field, Robby and about six of his cohorts came into view and Arnold knew that this was the moment of truth. His plan would either result in success, or catastrophic failure. He would have to be as diplomatic as possible.

His prediction came true, as the moment Robby and his friends set their feet on the grass they stopped and became visibly nervous, not at all comfortable with the sight of that many 5th graders in their midst.

"Hi, Arnold," Robby said, pulling on the collar of his shirt. "I gotta say we weren't expecting this many people."

"Well we weren't expecting you at all, bucko!" Helga shouted at him, hands on her hips.

"I reckon I'm confused," Stinky said aloud. "I thought we were just playing football amongst ourselves on this here field."

"Yeah, what gives with all the fourth graders?" Sid asked.

"Well, what's with all the fifth graders?" one of Robby's friends countered.

"You gotta problem with us being here?"

Arguing began to ensue among the respective grades. The respective numbers were about even, but the fifth graders were still much bigger and posed a much bigger threat to the smaller party if the altercation became physical. Thankfully, Arnold stepped in just in time.

"Quiet!" he yelled, and it had the desired effect as both fourth and fifth grader stopped their bickering and turned their attention to him.

"Looks guys," he said with a small sigh. "I invited you both here. I'm sorry I wasn't entirely honest, but I knew none of you would agree to it if you knew the other was going to show up."

"Darn, right!" Harold stomped aggressively. "Why should we play with fourth graders?"

"Well, why should we play with you?" one of the fourth graders shot back.

Arnold shook his head, wishing that Harold could keep whatever premonition he had to himself just once. If he failed to keep the peace now, this would be all for naught.

"Hold on a minute," he said getting directly into the middle of the fray, pushing his large friend back. "There's no reason why we can't play together."

"Was this the ultimate goal, Arnold?" Rhonda asked. "To get us to play with _them_?"

"That's not the point, Rhonda. Look, forget about this upcoming Monday. Forget about the garbage. Forget that we're from two separate grades. Who says that we can't play some football like regular kids?"

That was the selling point for Arnold, and he could only pray that it would work…he didn't want to think about the consequences if it didn't. Luckily, the arguing didn't resume, rather both sides seemed to mellow and consider the options. Even Robby didn't appear as intimidated as he usually did.

"Well we're always down for a game of football," he said, trying to play it off as though it were no big deal.

"I guess it wouldn't be so bad," Sid said, picking up the football off the ground from the spot where it had bounced off Harold's noggin. "It's a pretty big field. And it's a lot more fun with more people."

Murmuring ensued as the fourth and fifth graders agreed to set differences aside to play a game of backyard football.

"I don't care who plays as long as we start this stupid game already!" Helga shouted in exasperation. "Let's do this!"

The rest of the crowd agreed and even cheered as the idea of playing sixty minutes of America's most popular sport galvanized them into unity.

"I get to be captain this time!" Harold declared, looking at Gerald to make sure he wouldn't object this time.

"Fine by me, big boy."

"Alright!"

"I reckon it's my turn to be captain as well!"

Arnold could only shake in his head in amusement at his friends' attempt to jostle for the right to pick teams. As they headed towards the center part of the field, he caught Robby's eye and gave him a quick wink and a thumbs up, a gesture which was reciprocated with a small smile from the fourth grader.

This was not lost on Gerald, who shook his head.

"I knew there was a reason you wanted to play football in the middle of May."

Arnold turned and gave a sly look at his best friend.

"No idea, what you're talking about."

"Whatever you say, Arnold. You're a bold kid as always."

Chuckling slightly at Gerald's often used term to describe him, the oblong headed boy simply waited to be picked for a team. With any luck, his boldness would pay off by the end of the afternoon.

* * *

The game went better than anyone could have imagined. Though they decided to play two-hand touch, it was almost as physical and intense as it would have been playing tackle. The fourth graders turned out to be instrumental on a number of key plays, including the game winning touchdown, in which Robby caught a flea flicker from Gerald in order to win the game by a nail biting score of 31-28. When the final timer rang, carefully monitored by Phoebe, everyone had been so caught up in the contest they had forgotten the time. More importantly, they had all forgotten which grade everyone belonged to. Sports had a way of erasing petty distinctions, and today had been a remarkable example of that.

Arnold was panting, attempting to catch his breath along with everyone else who had participated. Though his team had lost the game, he did not feel he had lost the goal that he had tried to achieve in the first place.

"Good game, Arnold," said a familiar voice, and it was Robby who stood behind him, and he offered a hand in good sportsmanship.

The blonde boy shook it gracefully.

"Good game, Robby. Nice catch there in the final seconds. I thought Brainy had you covered pretty good."

"I'm just glad you invited us," he responded with a smile. "I just want you to know that the rest of the fourth graders and I really appreciate what you've done for us."

Arnold supposed it was obvious what his endgame was at this point so he didn't bother to try and deny it. If he hadn't been on their side by now, he was now.

"I'd do the same for anyone," he said modestly.

Robby nodded affirmatively, while a few of his fellow fourth graders whispered in his ear.

"We have to leave now. Johnny Camarena invited us over to his place to hang out, so that's where we're headed next."

"I understand. You guys were great out there today."

Robby motioned for the rest of his friends to go on ahead as he drew a bit closer to the fifth grader, keeping his voice down.

"Do you think it was enough to convince your friends not to trash can us?"

Arnold looked back at his fellow fifth graders. Some were chatting idly amongst themselves, while others were laying down in the grass, completely beat from the game. Gerald was chatting up Phoebe at the scorers table, causing her to giggle over something he had just said. Eugene was nursing a bruised knee and a couple of bent fingers, but he had otherwise made it through this game without injuring himself too badly. Rhonda was talking to Nadine while Harold was engaged with for some reason or another, probably over the handoff he had missed before halftime.

Arnold had known these kids for nearly his entire life and though every single one was flawed in some way, he sincerely believed they were all good people who did the right thing more often than not. If today couldn't convince them to call off Trash Can Day, nothing would.

"I can't say for sure, Robby," he replied. "But I do think it was the best chance to prevent it from happening."

The fourth grader nodded in a gesture of understanding. He recognized the same thing Arnold did, that whatever would happen would happen come Monday. After all, he had pretty much given his grade's destiny over to the fifth graders. The only option left was to simply wait and see.

"We'll prepare either way. But I still have faith."

Sharing one last sympathetic glance with Arnold, he waved over his fellow fourth graders to take their leave.

"Come on, guys, Johnny's got a new model airplane. You can control it with a remote and everything!"

They obliged, waving goodbye, and within a matter of moments they had rounded the corner from which they came and were gone. Meanwhile, the fifth graders were still commenting on the postgame highlights.

"Boy howdy! What a game!"

"I can't believe it came down to the wire like that."

"Ya'll, I think I make a darn good quarterback. I've been watchin' Dan Marino for years now."

Arnold was glad to see his friends in a good mood after a hard fought game of football. They were tired, but upbeat and that was half the battle he was trying to accomplish.

"Guess inviting the fourth graders wasn't such a bad idea after all?" he offered with a grin.

"It certainly made for a more competitive and thrilling contest of America's most popular sport," agreed Phoebe.

"Some of them could play pretty well," Harold admitted. "I think I knew one of them from temple."

"And another goes to the Presbyterian Church my family attends every Sunday," Stinky added. "What a coin-ci-dink."

"There was a girl who actually went to the same camp I did last summer," Nadine said happily. "We share a fascination for insect ecosystems."

Arnold was heartened to see that his plan had gone so well. He figured that it would be much more difficult for his friends to rationalize putting fourth graders in the trash if they knew them a little better. This was just the icing on the cake.

"I guess they weren't so bad?" he offered to the group.

There was a sound of collective agreement among them.

"So, maybe we don't need to put them in the trash after all on Monday."

Immediately, every one of his peers' expression shifted to one of shock, and if Arnold hadn't known better, he supposed he might have grown a second head.

"Are you crazy? Of course we do"

"No Trash Can Day?"

"That's the darndest thing I ever heard."

Arnold's stomach dropped about a hundred feet in that moment. He couldn't believe it; even after effectively bonding with the fourth graders, every single one of his fellow fifth graders still seemed fully intent on proceeding with Trash Can Day. He couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer.

"Guys, I really don't get why this is necessary. You know the fourth graders well enough by now. What's the point of sticking them in a trash can when they didn't do anything to deserve it?"

Several of his friends gazed at one another, clearly unable to think of a good reason.

"Because, well…"

"It's just…"

"I dunno…"

"I'll tell you the point!" interrupted an aggressive female voice. It was also the last one Arnold wanted to hear at the moment.

 _Oh no_

Helga marched through the crowd and stuck her face directly in front of his, the menacing scowl in full force.

"The point is that this is the way things work, football head! When you're a fourth grader, you get put into a trash can. When you're a fifth grader, you put the saps in the trash can. It's the natural order of things."

Arnold didn't buy that for a second.

"Natural order? Says who? Who's making us do this besides ourselves?"

"Says me!" Helga growled. "And everyone else here. Criminy! You've been a buzzkill before Arnoldo, but this has got to be the worst one yet!"

It was in these kinds of situations, Arnold really could not stand the girl in the pink bow. He could never hate Helga, but he could become frustrated with her bullying, especially when he knew there was more to her deep down.

 _I don't get it!_ He thundered in his own head. _Why are you like this, Helga? Why does it always have to be the hard way with you?_

But his internal pleas and irritation went unvoiced as he continued to be berated.

"Trash Can Day is a go on Monday afternoon, whether you like it or not! And you're either with us or against us, Arnold."

There it was. The decision had to be made right then and there even though the circumstances were entirely unfair. The ultimatum that Robby had referenced the previous day had come full circle. But the funny part was, he already knew the answer before Helga even asked.

"No. I'm not going to get involved with this. You can go ahead and trash all the fourth graders you want, but you can count me out."

"Well, fine! You're off the planning then. Tall hair boy over there and I can touch up the details over the weekend. In the meantime, just stay out of our way until after Monday afternoon. Got it?" And she jabbed a finger at him for emphasis.

"Loud and clear, Helga," Arnold replied in a disappointed monotone. He picked up his football off the ground and began to walk away. "I'm going home. I guess I'll see you guys on Monday."

He could sense that the rest of his friends were more than a little puzzled and even somewhat let down as one of their own had just refused to take part in an annual fifth grade tradition. However, it was Gerald that ran after him and asked the question they were all thinking.

"Arnold, why?" he said, putting a hand on his best friend's shoulder as they walked off the field.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Arnold saw that his best friend was conflicted as Gerald wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I don't know, man. It's just…"

"Tradition?"

He had stolen the words right out of the African American boy's mouth. Truth be told, he was more than a little disappointed that Gerald hadn't stood up for him against the full weight of peer pressure and Helga by extent. Even if there was some internal doubt, it hadn't been enough to sway him to his side.

"Can't we discuss this?"

Arnold shook his head. "There's nothing left to discuss, Gerald. I'll see you later."

He walked away, hoping he wouldn't be followed further and to his relief he wasn't. He was simply alone on the streets of Hillwood. It was fitting for how he felt, because at that moment, he was truly by himself. Worse yet, there was no solution to be had.

He passed by a few trash cans; they were practically bursting at the top with garbage.

It was ominous sign for an equally ominous upcoming Monday.

* * *

 **Looks like Arnold failed. What will he do now? With only a weekend left before Trash Can Day, perhaps there's just no way to avoid the inevitable...or is there? Find out in the next chapter!**

 **~The Wasp**


	6. Chapter 6

**Welcome back, folks!**

 **So I thought this chapter was going to be kind of hard to write. Turns out, the dialogue flowed pretty freely once I got started. Grandpa is always a fun character to write haha. Just as a small author's note, the beginning part (in italics) is a scene from the episode 'Longest Monday'. So if anyone hasn't seen the episode or doesn't remember it, I would suggest refreshing the memory a bit, as this whole story stems from that one event.**

 **Anyway, we're getting to the first step towards of the climax. So expect things to get even more tense as the fic moves forward. As a writer, you never know how your readers are going to react, but my hope is that you guys will like the direction and ultimately, the ending.**

 **Now to answer reviews.**

 **Ajay435-** Thank you, my man. Yes, Arnold does have a crafty side, however, it's never for ill intent. I was actually tempted to put one of those monologues after the fact, but found a place it that it would better suit the story. From Arnold's point of view, though he's starting to see through the barrier, to him Helga is still highly frustrating and struggles to understand her hostility and anger. As for Gerald's internal moment, that was actually spontaneous at the time I was writing the chapter. I figured it would be a nice window into when he finally begins to see the reason behind Helga's actions as well, leading into the TJM.

 **Call Me Nettie-** Your review tells me I've done my job, as you have almost no idea if the canning will happen or not ;) but yes, it does seem it could go either way at this point. Whether Arnold has the ability, or whether he'll receive some unexpected help...remains to be seen.

 **EnvytheSkunk-** The way I see it, Helga is just going through the daily motions of her struggle. Internally, she screams at herself when she belittles and acts cruelly towards Arnold. I think chocolate boy was a second grader in the original series, but it was never made official just what age he was. So here, I have him in third grade.

 **Guest-** Hazing rituals do tend to be male dominated, and the actual episode 'Longest Monday' you only see male 5th graders involved in the actual trash canning. Here I included everyone from Arnold's class because it a) you can't leave Helga out of something like this b) to show how steeped in the cycle of Trash Can Day everyone is in. Wouldn't have the same effect if it was just the boys.

 **The Rhombus-** Indeed, I'm reminded of the first Christmas that occurred during World War I between the French/British and the Germans. Both groups held a ceasefire to exchange gifts and even play soccer. Hard to kill your enemy, or at least demonize them after something like that. Obviously this is nowhere near that kind of conflict but it is the same principle. As for Helga, well, I think she's got her own dilemmas to figure out...and it will factor heavily into this story. The clock is ticking.

 **Guest-** Those Yankee teams were unstoppable. Especially the 1998 team. One of the best to ever play.

 **Anyway, on with the story! Don't forget to review, and enjoy!**

 **Chapter 6. A Legend's Origins**

 _"Alright, you two…it's time to take out the trash."_

 _Arnold could feel himself being lifted high into the air by the burly fifth grader. They had been betrayed by Mickey "The Weasel" and now the only word that could properly describe their situation was that of doom. Their luck had finally run out._

 _No…there had to be another way. In desperation, Arnold tried to appeal to whatever humanity Wolfgang had._

 _"Wait, wait! You don't want to do this."_

 _"I don't?" the fifth grader asked in confused response._

 _"No! If you put us in a trash can, you'll only be continuing a cycle of endless violence that'll go on for generations. But there's another option. A visionary option."_

 _This was enough to make Wolfgang and the other fifth graders pause for a second, mildly intrigued by what he had to say. Seeing his chance, Arnold made the most of it._

 _"Wolfgang, if you end this crazy ritual, you will be remembered for years and years as a trailblazer of tolerance; a philosopher of justice; a prophet of peace."_

 _Amazingly, the bully set him and Gerald down, appearing to consider the words from his quarry._

 _"I never thought of it that way before," he said contemplatively. "I could really put an end to a culture of violence."_

 _"So, what are you going to do?" his best friend, Edmund, asked._

 _"Well, I've weighed both sides of the question, considered the consequences, and thought deeply about the profound moral issues at stake in my decision," he declared._

 _"And?" Gerald gave a hopeful grin, daring to hope that perhaps their nemesis was seeing the error of his ways._

 _There was a brief pause, but then Wolfgang's face turned ominous with an evil smirk._

 _"I'm gonna put you guys in the trash."_

 _The statement ended any doubt of what was going to happen next. Arnold and Gerald backed away to avoid Wolfgang's grasp, but they were blocked by the other fifth graders, one of whom plopped down a tall, stinking, trash can in front of them, signifying their fate._

 _Their hesitation cost them, as the burly fifth grader resumed his previous course of action, picking them both up by the scruff of their collars and throwing them one by one into the garbage._

 _The two fourth graders barely had time to register the oozing, sliming mess that infiltrated their pockets and saturated their clothing as Wolfgang tipped the trash can on its side and proceeded to roll them down the hill._

 _Arnold's world was spinning uncontrollably, barely registering where they were or when the ordeal would end. He hoped Gerald was alright as he could hear the fifth graders laughing above them…_

 _Spinning and laughing…_

 _Laughing and spinning…_

 _The cycle of violence kept alive…_

"AHHH!"

He landed with a loud thump on the side of his floor, breathing heavily, somewhat disoriented from the nightmare.

Or had it been a nightmare?

Shaking his head, Arnold got his bearings and looked around. Yes, he was in his room, safe from Wolfgang, no trash can in sight. He looked up at his clock which read "9:38 AM" and his calendar, which indicated it was Saturday.

Breathing heavily, his senses came back to him. He was not fourth grader anymore, but a fifth grader. He had spent an entire week wrestling with the issue, until taking a stand the previous day in which he had walked away from his friends, unwilling to participate in their plan.

Trash Can Day.

 _What a crazy dream_ , he thought to himself. _That felt way too real. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, given that it's two days away until it happens._

Arnold got up off the floor and sat back on his bed. Typically, he slept in a little longer on weekends before heading out to be with his friends, but this particular Saturday he was at a loss at what to do. He considered going over to Gerald's to see if they wanted to see a movie or even check out some comic books, but given yesterday's incident, his enthusiasm was considerably lessened.

This was not a feeling he enjoyed, the implication of what had happened hitting him in full. He knew he had done the right thing, but another part of him couldn't help but insist that his act of defiance was nothing more than betrayal. His friends wouldn't want to talk to him now, and even if they did, Helga would see to it that he was shunned until Trash Can Day was over. And of course, there were only two days until the fateful Monday.

Shaking his head, the combination of his raging internal conflict, the aftershock of his dream, and the prospect of dealing with the most confusing, unpredictable girl he had even met in his life was simply too much to bear this early in the morning.

"I need to shower," he muttered to himself as he grabbed a towel and headed downstairs.

As was typical of his mornings, the door to the bathroom opened before he reached it, revealing his grandfather, who stretched his suspenders and gave a satisfied sigh.

"Morning, short man," he said pleasantly. "I'd put off that shower for about fifteen minutes if I were you. Your grandma made blackberry cobbler last night."

"Blackberry? Grandpa, I thought raspberries were the ones that didn't agree with you."

"Turns out they're even worse," the 82 year old replied with a wince. "Blackberries, raspberries, they're all the same. Don't eat em."

"Yeah…thanks for the advice, grandpa."

It was in moments like these that his elderly caregiver seemed to read him like a book, as he gave Arnold a concerned eye.

"Everything, okay, Arnold? You look out of sorts."

The preteen boy figured there was no point in lying, as if there was anyone he could trust with something like this, it was his grandpa.

"Not really," he admitted, sighing. "You could say I'm dealing with a problem."

"Uh-oh, another one of your boyhood traumas," his grandpa said putting an arm around his grandson. "Guess I should be thankful you're not sixteen, otherwise it'd be another conversation…."

Arnold rolled his eyes slightly, knowing full well his grandfather's eccentric sense of humor. He figured it would be best to get straight to it.

"So, all around the city there's this event every year called Trash Can Day. It's the first Monday in June before trash pick up on Tuesday. All the fifth graders go around and put the fourth graders into trash cans. Last year, my class went through it, but this year…well we're the fifth graders and it's our turn to carry on the tradition. Gerald and I were supposed to draw up a plan for this Monday, only…I couldn't go through with it. Everyone thinks I'm a traitor and I have no way to prevent it from happening. I just don't know what to do."

Grandpa Phil scratched his chin and muttered to himself, "Hmmm, Trash Can Day? Interesting stuff you kids get up to these days. Well, Arnold, I think it's time for a story."

They walked across to the living room to one of the couches and sat down together.

"Believe it or not, Arnold, we used to have something similar when I was a lad. You see, back in those days, elementary school only went up to fourth grade. So, naturally there was a big rivalry between the third and fourth graders. There were constant battles between the two- baseball games that would dissolve into fights, kids tripping each other in the hallways, pranks like you wouldn't believe."

"Wow," Arnold said, slightly surprised. "Sounds like it was just as intense back then as it is now."

"Indeed, it was," his grandpa continued. "The two sides couldn't stand each other. But, of course, the fourth graders had to have the last laugh. Every year, before the start of summer, they would all go out and capture every third grader they could find, march em down to the stinky lagoon pond that lay in the center of the park and drop em in like a sack of old potatoes. Why, I remember when I was in the third grade, there was a fourth grader meaner than a Pitbull. Name was Hans Niedermeyer. Anyway, he rounded us all up and took us down to the lagoon. He singled me out actually, as I had tied his shoelaces together, causing him to fall face first into his lunch."

He laughed mischievously before continuing.

"Anyway, I can remember Hans personally throwing me into that smelly bog and laughing his stupid kraut head off as he did it. My mother washed my clothes for a week and still couldn't get the stink out. I said to myself I would never do such a thing to another person once I got to fourth grade. It was a schoolyard fate you didn't wish upon even your worst enemy."

Arnold took all this in, very interested in knowing the outcome.

"What happened once you were in fourth grade? Did you stop the cycle of violence?"

"Heck, no! We through those little twerps straight into that lagoon the very next year."

The oblong headed boy lowered his eyelids in a bored fashion. Sometimes, his grandpa's stories didn't always have a moral ending, even if he meant well.

"So, why did you go through with something like that? Even though you vowed never to do it to someone else?" he asked.

"Well, I suppose it was because we were angry," Grandpa Phil shrugged. "We couldn't exactly get back at Hans, so we just took it out on whoever was below us. Of course, it was shortly after that day that the Great Depression hit, and I had to drop out of school before finishing fourth grade. Time went by and I realized just how pointless all of that fighting had been. All for the sake of revenge."

Arnold thought back to all the reasons his friends had given him as to why they wanted to go through with Trash Can Day. The answers rang with familiarity.

 _"It's the natural order of things!"_

 _"You can't just get rid of something like that."_

 _"It's tradition, my man."_

A sudden realization hit Arnold. It wasn't enough to convince his friends to simply call off Trash Can Day, but to better understand where it came from and why. If he could get to the bottom of that, perhaps there was a small chance he could still save the fourth graders and prevent his friends from committing a horrible mistale. To cut off the culture of violence before it was passed down to another kid generation.

"Well, I hope that helped, short man," his grandpa said, breaking his train of thought. "I'm sure whatever happens on this 'Trash Can Day' won't be such a big deal in the long run. When you're as old as I am, you tend to change perspective on a few things."

There was a sudden crash in the hallway, followed by angry shouts.

"Kokoschka, you moron! Look what you did!" the New York heavy dialect of Ernie Potts called out.

"What are you talking about? It was your fault!" replied a whiny Eastern European accent.

Grandpa Phil gave an irritated groan.

"Then, again, some things never change. Best of luck, Arnold. I better go see what's going on before they break something else."

He dashed out into the hallway to settle the commotion. Thankfully, for the blond boy, his grandpa's talk had been quite illuminating in its own way as his head began to buzz with an idea.

There was some work he needed to do on this Saturday.

* * *

The first item on his list was by far the most nerve racking and unpredictable. He needed to find and talk to Wolfgang.

Truth be told, he had no idea where to find him in the vastness of Hillwood. A soul could easily become lost in the vast crowd of city life. The good news was that Arnold was well adapted to such life, and he knew that anyone could be found with just a little digging. Besides, Wolfgang was not the subtle type. The very nature of his being commanded attention; he wasn't the leader of his grade for nothing.

So, with the help of a few neighborhood regulars- Mrs. Vitello, Mr. Green, chocolate boy- he was able to track the sixth-grade behemoth down. As it turned, for once he wasn't causing trouble, just throwing rocks against a dumpster in an alley.

Arnold heaved a sigh before approaching Wolfgang. Though he did not pick on them as often as he used to, it was never wise to provoke him, intentional or otherwise. He was still quite formidable, and the last thing the blond boy wanted was for their former tormentor to get any ideas about tossing them in the garbage…again.

He stopped delaying the inevitable, nervous as he was, as he called out, "Hey, Wolfgang."

The sixth grader stopped chucking his rocks long enough to notice his name being spoken, as he turned to see who it was that sought his attention.

"Oh, it's you, football face," he said, sounding almost bored. He then cracked a familiar evil grin. "You looking for another beat down in baseball? I wouldn't get your hopes up based off the last game."

"The way I remember it, we beat you last game," Arnold said coolly. "Or did you forget Gerald struck you out in the bottom of the ninth with a man on?"

"That was a ball, not a strike!" Wolfgang growled. "Next pitch would've been his last."

Arnold eased himself. He was not in the mood to talk about the 'what ifs' of a baseball game that occurred over two months ago.

"Whatever you say, Wolfgang," Arnold shrugged. "I didn't come to discuss that with you."

"So, what do you want?" And the sixth grader chucked another rock at the dumpster, making a very large dent in the process.

"I wanted to talk about…Trash Can Day."

That got Wolfgang's attention, as he tossed away his next rock and stared down at the fifth grader in a peculiar fashion.

"Trash Can Day? What about it?"

Arnold spoke slowly, reminding himself that Wolfgang was mean but certainly not dumb. He had to be careful with his words.

"Well, it's coming up again this Monday. Our class is participating in it."

"Oh, yeah that's right," Wolfgang said, tapping his chin with his finger. "It's your guys turn to put the puny fourth graders in the trash can."

"Guess so."

"Ah, I remember Trash Can Day like it was yesterday," the sixth grader reminisced. "Those were the good ole days. Hah, I still think about rolling you and afro kid down the hill sometimes."

 _Yeah, how about that,_ Arnold thought a bit sourly, not wanting to be reminded of his recent nightmare.

"Yeah, well it looks like we're pretty much ready," he said, giving a Wolfgang a false impression that he and his friends were united on that front.

"You'll enjoy it, trust me," and Wolfgang's tone changed from ominous to that of a mentor. "You learn that quickly after getting trash canned the previous year. It feels good to finally do it to someone else."

Arnold saw the opening and took it.

"So, what was it like for you? When you got trash canned in fourth grade?"

"It sucked, duh," Wolfgang said, chucking another rock at the dumpster, causing it to ricochet off the side and break a window in the abandoned warehouse next to them.

"Whoops," he said, but not before guffawing at the act of inadvertent vandalism. "Yeah, football face, you know how it feels. Getting tossed into last week's cafeteria food by people bigger and stronger than you, knowing there's nothing you can do about it. Trash Can Day is a fifth grader's best friend, and a fourth grader's worst nightmare."

"If you hated it happening to you so much, why did you continue it the next year?"

"Didn't you just hear me?" Wolfgang said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Trash Can Day is a fifth grader's best friend. You get the chance to dish out what you took the previous year. Take it from someone who knows. There's no going back. It's a ritual with a huge history."

That lead Arnold straight into his next question.

"Well, what is the full history behind it?"

Wolfgang shrugged.

"No idea. I just know what everyone else does. That it started four years ago, and it's been going on ever since."

He belched loudly as he threw the last of his rocks at the dumpster.

"I gotta roll. If you want to play us again in baseball, we got the field next Friday after school. And this time, we're going to kick your butt." He laughed and proceeded to make his way past the smaller fifth grader, his huge size even more imposing up close.

Before he left, however, he stopped and looked back at Arnold. "Oh, and by the way, enjoy your Monday," he said with another malicious grin.

Arnold pondered to himself as Wolfgang jaywalked across the street, causing a car to swerve out of the way with a loud honk.

 _Not exactly what I was hoping for, but not a complete waste of time. Least he didn't try to hurt me._

It still begged the question: what caused Trash Can Day? When did it start and why?

As far as urban legends went, he knew there was only one person that held a deep knowledge of them above everyone else.

He needed to pay a visit to Gerald Johanssen.

* * *

"Gerald, please!"

"No, Timberly. Now for the last time, go away."

The six year old stomped her feet angrily, tears forming in her eyes.

"You never want to do anything with me!"

The older boy rolled his eyes, not falling for his sister's dramatics as he fumbled with his bike chain.

"You never do anything I'd be interested in doing in the first place. How many times do I have to tell you that I do not like dolls?"

"But Sally had to cancel our playdate," Timberly whined. "I have no one to play house with."

"Not my problem. I have to fix my bike. Go away."

Gerald really disliked being the middle child, and this was a prime reason why. If his older brother wasn't stealing or breaking his stuff, his little sister would pester him like there was no tomorrow. Just managing to snag a moment's peace was nearly impossible to come by.

He grabbed the wrench from the sidewalk and resumed work on his bike, fully prepared for the meltdown that was sure to be coming in about three seconds.

"Hey, Timberly," said a familiar voice behind his back. Gerald was slightly surprised but he was inwardly relieved; he didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

His sister beamed a large smile, as her demeanor shifted immediately.

"Hey, Arnold!"

The blond boy smiled in turn. "Everything, okay?"

"No…Gerald won't play 'house' with me," Timberly pouted.

"Your brother seems pretty busy at the moment," Arnold reasoned with her. "Tell you what, I'll come by next week and play 'house' with you, okay? Just you and me."

The little girl's eyes widened with happiness.

"Really? You mean it?"

"Of course."

Timberly hugged Arnold with such force, it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

"Oof! Hey, you're getting a little big for that."

She only giggled in response, as she ran back inside.

"Thanks, Arnold! You're the best!"

"Don't mention it," he responded kindly, chuckling as he saw his best friend shake his head. With Timberly out of sight, they could talk freely amongst themselves.

"You know, she's gonna make you her 'boyfriend' again if you keep that up," Gerald said, standing up from his bike repair.

"I just got you out of playing 'house' for a week. I think a 'thank you' is in order."

Gerald grinned. "You're a bold kid, Arnold." His expression then turned sheepish as he averted his eyes downward.

"Listen man, about yesterday, I…"

"I'm sorry, too," Arnold finished for him. "Don't worry. Water under the bridge?"

There was no need for anything more, as the two friends commenced their eight-year trademark handshake, signifying all was well between them.

"So, what's up, my man?"

"Just thought I'd pop over and see what you were doing. It is Saturday after all." He pointed to the heap that was supposedly Gerald's ride. "What happened to your bike?"

"Jamie O ran it over with his car," Gerald replied bitterly. "Idiot didn't even realize it was there when he backed out of the driveway. He gave me the money to fix it, but only because my mom made him. Now I'm just trying to piece it back together." He washed his hands of the grease and dirt with a rag before tossing it aside. "I can always work on it later though. You wanna go do something?"

"Yeah sure, but first I wanted to ask you something."

"What's that?"

As with Wolfgang, Arnold chose his next words carefully. He obviously didn't need to fear physical violence, but he didn't want to reopen a sore spot too soon either.

"Well, you know Trash Can Day is on Monday."

"Yeah…" his best friend stated slowly.

"I'm just wondering if you knew the history behind it. How it started and all."

Gerald eyed him curiously.

"Arnold, haven't you heard the tale before? No one knows how Trash Can Day started. It just 'happened.'"

"Come on, Gerald. Every urban legend has a backstory. This one can't have just popped out of nowhere. Who was the one who told you about it in the first place?"

"Fuzzy Slippers, who else?"

"So, what did he have to say about it?" Arnold inquired as he got the feeling Gerald wasn't telling him the whole truth. "I know there's more to it than just a random occurrence."

Gerald shifted his stance a bit.

"Well, he did tell me one part I didn't mention before. But that's just because it didn't happen in this part of the city. So, he couldn't confirm or deny it. Even he said he didn't know for sure how it began."

"Since when does that mean anything, whether it's true or not?" Arnold pointed out. "It's just an urban legend after all."

"Fair enough. Alright, let me see if I can rack my brain."

He cleared his throat, needing no introduction from Sid this time around.

"Officially, no one knows how 'Trash Can Day' started. Unofficially, the day can be traced back four years to a different elementary on the other side of town. Supposedly, the fourth and fifth graders got along just fine. But that all changed, when one day, a fifth grader had his favorite Gameboy stolen out of his locker. He searched frantically for it, never resting until he found out who had taken it. Then, one day, he received word from an anonymous witness that a fourth grader was the one who had jigged his combination and done the dirty deed. He and two of his fifth-grade buddies confronted the fourth grader, interrogating him relentlessly, but he kept denying it. Yelling, screaming, threats, nothing would get him to confess. Finally, after three hours, the fifth grader snapped. With the speed of a cheetah, and the anger of a Greek god, he picked up the hapless fourth grader and subsequently plopped him into the nearest trash can. All throughout the day, each and every fifth grader confronted every fourth grader for information and when none of them would budge or tell them anything, they met the same fate. By the evening, every fourth grader was drenched from head to toe in rotten, stinking garbage, due to be picked up the next day."

He paused, as his face grew somber.

"Some say, the news of what happened spread rapidly to the other schools across the city. And the fifth graders from those precincts decided to adopt the event as an annual holiday. Thus, Trash Can Day was born. The end."

Gerald took a slight bow for dramatic effect, while Arnold processed what he had just heard. Was this whole hazing event really started by something so trivial?

"Let me get this straight. This whole thing was caused by someone's missing Gameboy?"

"Hey, man. I'm just the keeper of the tales, I don't make them. We don't know if it's true or not."

Arnold nodded, knowing full well how inconsistent urban legends could be. Yet, he couldn't help but feel that the story was bit anti-climactic. If he hadn't understood the purpose of Trash Can Day before, he certainly didn't now.

Nevertheless, he played it off casually, not wanting to make Gerald suspicious.

"Well that's interesting to say the least," he said shrugging. "Guess we'll never know for sure."

"Guess so."

"Anyway, want to head down to the arcade?"

"You read my mind, brotha."

Gerald put his bike back into the garage, and soon the two boys were headed off down the street. Though he was glad he and his best friend were on good terms, he couldn't help but wonder if Arnold was up to something. He certainly wouldn't put it past him.

 _I know you, buddy. I just hope that whatever you're thinking, it won't backfire on you._

Meanwhile, Arnold had thoughts of his own as the spark of hope reignited within his mind.

 _"There's no going back,"_ echoed Wolfgang's words.

His response was defiant.

 _We'll just see about that._

* * *

 **Looks like Arnold's got his mojo back and is developing another plan ;) Will this one hold better luck? Stay tuned for the next chapter to find out!**

 **~The Wasp**


	7. Chapter 7

**Another update is here!**

 **Before we begin, let's respond to the reviews**

 **Guest-** I'm curious, what were you expecting as far as the origin story?

 **Ajay435-** Writing that scene with Grandpa was hilarious haha. I love how a lot of his kooky stories seem to have an odd 'unmoral' ending but they still have a silver lining to them. Arnold's mind is definitely coming up with something. You'll catch a glimpse of that here.

 **The Rhombus-** I'm glad you found the humor in it xD it definitely made for fun writing, especially with Grandpa. He's a favorite of mine with his wisecracks. You're spot on with how some of these hazing rituals get started. I actually think the episode itself is a useful metaphor for just how tedious conflict and wars are at their origins. It's the same way for Arnold and Trash Can Day.

 **Deep Voice-** Thank you for the awesome review! You give a good guess as to what's going to happen but you may be surprised;) I'm definitely going to throw a few curveballs before the end. As for Helga's role in this, well I think you're about to get a glimpse of that just about now.

 **Thanks to all who have kept up with the story. It's not going to be much longer and the climax is almost here. So stay tuned!**

 **As always, let me know what you think with a review! And enjoy the fic!**

 **Chapter 7. Choices**

 **One day until Trash Can Day**

Helga Pataki gazed out of her bedroom window with a look that could be described as 'lost.'

It was raining, and it seemed fitting for her present situation. A Sunday afternoon, cancelled by the ill-favored weather, kept her inside the madhouse that was her home. Already, she could hear the arguing downstairs.

"Bob, please…"

"Enough, Miriam. I already told you. The business is going fine."

"But you haven't made a sale in weeks."

"Pipe down, will ya!" she heard her father say in a hushed tone that still carried upstairs, given his naturally booming voice. "Or the girl is going to hear us."

"Bob," came the tired voice of her mother, but for once it did not sound slurred. "She's going to find out sooner or later. At this rate, we won't be able to pay off the mortgage."

The reality of those words seemed to silence him temporarily.

"I know, Miriam. I've seen the numbers. What do you want me to say? That I'm a failure? A freakin loser?"

"Of course not. I just don't want to see you stress yourself out like this…"

"I'm fine!" the middle-aged man insisted. "You don't need to worry about this, you or Helga. It's my responsibility to put the food on the table, to keep the roof over our head, and make sure my family is safe. And I won't bow out just because times are bad. We Patakis do what needs to be done without any help from anyone. End of story!"

"B…"

"I'm watching my soap operas Miriam. The only other thing I want to hear about tonight is dinner."

And that was the end of that.

Watching the drizzle of the rain slosh down on the gravel city streets, Helga felt unfazed by the conversation she had just heard. Perhaps that was because she had been overhearing them for nearly two months now.

Bob and Miriam were not exactly the subtle types. It had not taken long for her to suspect something was off. An empty pantry was nothing new, as her mother consistently forgot groceries in a variety of ways- leaving them on top of the car, spilling them, etc. But though this happened almost twice every week, her father had had the means to get more. Now, the length of time without fresh food in the house was increasing.

Then she noticed that Bob was not as bombastic or arrogant as he usually was. The constant bragging over his beeper empire, the notches on his belt, his blowhard way of explaining things to everyone, had lessened considerably. Sometimes he would come home not saying a word; merely taking a seat in his chair, drinking a soda, finding comfort in his soap dramas. Even when he tried to boast or make himself seem like a big shot, it was quite obvious he was overcompensating…well more than he usually did.

But Helga had uncovered the first concrete evidence of her family's financial woes when she had returned from a trip to the bathroom before bedtime and had heard a rather intense conversation between her parents about the bills. Such a topic would not normally arouse her interest but hearing the phrase "way behind on the house" had made her stomach drop a few feet. Of course, it wasn't long after that she eavesdropped again on Bob complaining about the lack people wanting to buy beepers.

Sometimes adults didn't give kids enough credit. Especially in Helga's case where lack of true parenting had forced her to grow up faster than most children her age. Knowing her parents and how the household typically operated, she could work out most things for herself. This was just the latest in a long line of misfortunates she had discovered the hard way. But despite the prospect of losing their home, she wasn't as upset as she might be. It's not that such a prospect did not frighten her or cause significant stress, even pain. It's that her main focus remained elsewhere.

Breathing into the window, she began to trace a football with her finger, adding small details along the way- hair, eyes, the smile she adored so much- resulting in a small makeshift figure of a familiar boy.

 _Arnold._

"Oh my, love," she whispered as if the window drawing could hear her. "I stand on the brink of utter ruin, powerless to prevent the demise of my father's crumbling business. Yet, all I can think of is you."

Helga turned and stood against her wall, slowly sliding down as she continued her monologue.

"I wish with all of my heart and soul to be kinder, to treat you with the respect and dignity you give to everyone around you. Like when you brought us together with the fourth graders in a noble act of unity, all you wanted was to prevent more senseless violence…why couldn't I have voiced my support instead of disdain? Why must I continue to humiliate you for your righteousness, when it is the reason that I worship the ground you tread? Why…"

It was symbolic of all her questions. A single word: _why_? But those questions were rhetorical, for she already knew they had answers.

With a deep breath she continued her latest soliloquy.

"I torment the very boy that gives me strength to keep going in this forsaken place. For without you, my football headed love god, I am truly nothing. What has this town offered other than throes of disappointment? Except you, Arnold. I dream of you every night and I hope every day I can prove myself to you somehow…someway…"

She sank all the way to the floor, her emotions practically overwhelming her senses, the urge of desperation growing stronger by the second. Between her home, her family, Arnold….no, now was not the time to lament on her failures in love. There was much more at stake than just that.

"Trash Can Day is tomorrow and there seems to no way to stop it. No way to halt the cruelty that extends from our grade to the one below us. Of course, it's my fault for ruining Arnold's attempt to cease this stupid ritual."

Clenching her fists, Helga got up off the floor and flung herself on the bed, arms and legs spread in an eagle formation.

"Criminy! Can I ever stop being this DEFCON five, psycho?! I should be supporting Arnold in his quest to end Trash Can Day, but I can't! How can I stand up for him and keep my precious reputation at the same time?!"

She raised her arms in the air and then flopped them down on her bed, as if to symbolize the futility of the situation. On the one hand, there was the person she cared about most and the yearning to throw off the chains of her insecurities to assist him in any way she could. On the other, there was her status as the alpha of P.S. 118, the one that no one dared mess with or hurt because she would dish that hurt back out tenfold. Reputation had been the sole reason she had gotten as far as she had. Yet, that reputation was not honest and held no endearment from anyone, not even herself. It was built on the blocks of fear, fury, and the feelings of the scared little girl that raised walls to hide away from the victimization she had known her entire life.

Sure, those walls made her feel safe. But safety was not the same as happiness. Not the kind she desired.

Helga rubbed her forehead. The choice was there, but unlike the moments where she aided Arnold anonymously from afar, no such luxury would be afforded to her this time. Trash Can Day was coming, and there was a decision to be made. Stand by Arnold and risk exposing her secret to the world or stand by the tradition; enabling her to continue as the scowling menace of the 5th grade.

Her mind fell silent for once, bringing back the sounds of the rain and the TV downstairs, blasting the echoes of dramatic, nigh impossible storylines of love and tragedy.

Which ending would her story follow?

* * *

Alleyways were not usually a spot you wanted to find yourself in after dark. So, when Arnold checked his watch, it was more out of slight anxiety than anything else. A lot of his worst moments had come in places like these: getting mugged, discovering a rabid hobo by accident, being chased by Wolfgang, etc. All unpleasant to say the least.

However, tonight there was a reason and a very specific one at that. If tomorrow was to be successful, then his plan needed to stick to the letter. There was a lot of potential for this to go either way. It would bear fruit or end up disastrous.

He checked his watch again.

 _9:56_

It was late. Arnold told his grandparents he would be back by ten at the latest after dinner. He knew they wouldn't be too upset with him if he was a little tardy but at the same time he didn't want to breach their trust.

"Come on, where are you?" he muttered to himself.

He had a flashlight just in case. He also had his karate training, learnt from his grandmother just in case someone thought he was a soft target.

A rumble and fall of a trash can sounded to his left and he quickly shone his flashlight in that direction.

"Ow! Relax, it's me!"

Arnold quickly lowered the light, as he recognized the figure.

"Sorry. What took you so long?"

"My mom. She wouldn't leave me alone until I had all my homework done."

"Sounds like she really cares," Arnold smiled.

"Yeah she does," the figure said in begrudging manner but one that also held appreciation.

The blond preteen cleared his throat in anticipation, needing to get straight to the point.

"I'm glad you wanted to meet when I called this afternoon. Just so we're clear, you're still in for tomorrow right?"

"Without a doubt. I've seen and been through enough Trash Can Days to know how much they suck. Anything I can do to help, I'll do."

"Excellent. Can you get out of school in time?"

"We actually get out half an hour before you do. So, I'll have plenty of time to make it to P.S. 118. It'll be nice to see the old place again, actually."

There was a pause, before the figure spoke again.

"Just so we're clear you don't want me to do anything until you say the code word?"

"That's right."

"And the code word is…"

"Wolfgang."

"Right. Just wanted to double check."

Arnold checked his watch. It was exactly two minutes past the hour. He needed to head home.

"I have to go. But if everything goes well, then the first Monday of June, 1997 should mark the end of a hazing ritual that never should have started in the first place."

"You really think it'll work?" the figure asked.

The oblong headed boy didn't answer right away. Everything going right was a big _if_ and it could very well backfire. There were doubts, but the potential good outweighed the risks. He had to take this chance.

"I sure hope so. I have faith in my friends."

"Alright," the figure shrugged. "I'll see you tomorrow, Arnold."

He left the alleyway and rejoined the main city street unobtrusively, thankful that the latest part in his plan had succeeded. However, there was still a long way left to go. And how tomorrow went would depend on his fellow 5th graders. Was it naive to place his trust in them after they had spurned him twice now?

 _Someone has to_ , was the only reply his mind came up with as he walked back to the boarding house under the gaze of twinkling city lights.

* * *

 **So obviously Helga feels a tremendous amount of conflict and pain given her situation. What will she choose in the end? And what's Arnold up to? Who was the mysterious figure in the alleyway? Bonus points to anyone who can guess!**

 **~The Wasp**


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, it's just about time for another installment of Longest Monday! I hope you guys are ready, because we're rapidly approaching the climax of this tale. It only took me a couple of hours to write actually.**

 **Pay close attention as well, this chapter sets up for some very important plot points in the next one. So after I respond to the reviewers, take a read and tell me what you think.**

 **Call Me Nettie-** Channeling my own inner Arnold, I'd say I'm optimistic about her doing the right thing as well. Let's see if your guess was right!:)

 **Ajay435-** As I've continued to write this fic, I've steadily added more and more ideas to it and I feel like Pataki's downfall was a good one. It's good to have some other sub plots that lead into the movie. And I would say rotting garbage is nasty no matter if it's sticky or moist xD

 **Kryten-** An excellent guess!

 **Deep Voice'06-** That's some pretty good deducing you did there. You'll find out whether or not you were correct very soon. And feel absolutely free to use this as canon in your story! I really hope you end up liking the ending.

 **Guest-** Haha paranormal would have been a good option but I figured something more down to earth would fit better for an origin story. A trash can related death/ghost story would be a bit much for this situation.

 **The Rhombus-** Indeed Hegla's dilemma serves as a basic backdrop for her whole situation she's dealing with. It's a nice little parallel. It's hard for her to overcome her trepidation but as to what she will do and Arnold too, well we're getting closer to finding out.

 **Guest-** Thank you! I'm glad I could inspire your work in some way:)

 **Anyway, let me know your thoughts and feedback! And also enjoy!**

 **Chapter 8. Hello, Wolfgang**

 **Trash Can Day: T-Minus 7 hours**

Monday morning had arrived and the final preparations for Trash Can Day were underway. Unbeknownst to the fifth graders, they had gathered in the same locker room that Wolfgang and his crew had used the previous year to plan the demise of the grade below them. True, it was a boy's room but no one gave it much thought except Rhonda.

"Ugh, I don't understand why we have to meet here," she complained. "It smells like body odor and gym socks."

"What did you expect coming into the boy's room?" Nadine shrugged, trying to console her pompous friend. "Besides, it's not _that_ bad. Truth be told, the girl's locker room doesn't smell like a basket of roses either."

"That's because none of you have proper hygiene standards that was lucky enough to have developed when I was young," Rhonda sniffed. "Even so, there's no girl among us that's as dirty and sweaty as Harold."

"Hey! You take that back!" the Jewish boy shouted in offense.

"QUIET!"

The screeching of the megaphone caused everyone to cringe and put their hands over their ears. Looking up, they saw Helga standing in front of them, her trademark scowl in place, Gerald reluctantly standing behind her.

"Why in the heck does she always have one of them mega-thingies?" Stinky wondered aloud.

"Not like she needs one," Rhonda sassed.

"Zip it, princess!" Helga snarled, tossing the megaphone aside. "Alright, dweebs, let's get the particulars over with. As we all know, Trash Can Day is today and by the end of it, every fourth grader in this school is going to be smelling of garbage and hobo puke."

There was some scattered clapping from the crowd in response.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah whoop it up. In any case, tall hair boy over here is going to explain the plan that we came up with over the weekend. I'll leave it to him to go over the details."

Helga crossed her arms and stood off to one side, allowing Gerald space to say his piece.

"Thanks for the flattering introduction, Helga. Alright, ya'll know what we gotta do today," the black preteen explained, though his tone was less than enthusiastic. "In order to put every single fourth grader in the trash, several things need to happen. Number one: block the exits. Make sure no one leaves the school yard. Number two: keep an eye out for potential distractions…"

Though Gerald eased through his speech without much trouble, the atmosphere was somewhat subdued. In fact, no one seemed that eager or attentive to the day they had been prepping for a week. Phoebe yawned, Harold began fidgeting with the wrapper of a chocolate bar, and even Curly looked as though he'd rather be doing something else.

"I dunno, Sid" Stinky said in a hushed whisper to his friend. "Maybe Arnold was right. I'm not too sure we're doing the right thing no more by participating in this here Trash Can Day."

"A week ago, I would have said you were crazy," Sid responded. "But the truth is, this doesn't feel right to me either. I mean, what's the point anyway?"

"Still, it's not like we can back out now, after all this big talk. What the Sam Hill are we gonna do?"

As if his question had been heard by supernatural forces, the door to the boy's room suddenly swung open with a mighty crash. The crowd turned to see who it was that had interrupted the meeting, including Gerald, who had ceased his speech to join the onlookers.

A familiar football head walked through the door with a familiar smile and friendly disposition.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late. What did I miss?"

No one answered him right away, as the shock had temporarily robbed them of their vocal chords. However, Helga wasted no time in addressing the unexpected visitor.

"Oh no!" she said aggressively, marching up the locker room until her face was merely a foot away from his. "If you think you're coming in here with another one of your stupid 'kumbaya' speeches then save it football head! Trash Can Day is happening whether you like it or not."

Gerald could only brace himself for another argument between the two. He supposed he better get involved sooner rather than later to prevent it from boiling over. The rest of the fifth graders seemed to sense the same thing.

 _Honestly, my man has the worst timing sometimes_ , Gerald thought, shaking his head.

But that boiling argument never materialized. Instead, Arnold smiled almost cheekily and deflected Helga's insults like swatting a fly.

"On the contrary, I didn't come here to attempt to stop you at all."

It was enough for everyone in the room to drop their jaw, including Helga, who's normally hostile façade flickered into surprise.

"Y-you…don't?"

Arnold continued to smile (Helga's stomach did a backflip), as if he had expected his classmates' reaction from the get go.

"Nope. In fact, I came here to let you know one thing: I'm in."

* * *

 **Trash Can Day: T-minus 4 hours**

Wolfgang laughed as he completed an atomic wedgie over a hapless third grader's head.

"AHHH!"

"Ahahaha!" he guffawed. "You puny third graders are too easy. Just remember to give me twenty five percent of you lunch money every week, and we won't have this problem, got it?"

"Yes, s-sir, Mr. Wolfgang sir!"

"Good. Now get out of here."

Unfortunately for the third grader, the wedgie he had been given blocked his vision. As he tried to run away from his tormentor he ran into the red lockers head first, resulting in him landing on his backside with a humorous thud.

"Ugh!"

"Good lord you third graders are stupid," Wolfgang laughed as he proceeded to open up his locker. "It's like taking candy from a baby."

He mused through his belongings, searching for the lousy textbook he needed for his next class with the ever-boring Mr. Frank. He hated English, but he made the time go faster by flicking rubber bands with Edmund at some of the nerds.

"Sometimes it really is the simple things in life," he chuckled to himself.

"I quite agree," spoke a somewhat familiar voice behind him.

Wolfgang closed his locker, stuffing his English textbook into his bookbag, along with a hefty supply of rubber bands, mildly intrigued by who it was that actually sought his attention.

"Oh, it's you, football face. What do you want?"

"Well you may have forgotten, but today is Trash Can Day."

Wolfgang pondered this for a moment, remembering the conversation they had a couple days prior.

"Oh yeah, that's right. Well sorry to remind you but I'm a sixth grader now. You're a year off, pal."

The oblong headed boy didn't seem deterred by this fact. In fact, his features appeared to be quite pleased by the answer.

"I know, Wolfgang. Even so, on behalf of this year's fifth graders, we would like to extend an invitation to you to watch us commence the annual Trash Can Day ritual when we throw the first fourth grader into the dumpster."

The burly sixth grader shrugged his massive shoulders.

"Why would you care if I'm there or not?"

"Well considering everything we've learned comes from what happened last year, my classmates and I thought it would be fitting for you to witness it. After all, we owe it all to you."

Wolfgang considered this for a moment. On one hand, he had no horse in this race and could sooner tell the fifth graders to take a long walk off a short peer. But then again, if they had thought of him and wanted to give him a front row seat to the entertainment, there was no harm in watching the ceremonial first pitch so to speak. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything better to do after school.

"Alright, football face, consider me there. It'll probably be just as hilarious the second time around. And I don't even have to do anything except eat my popcorn."

"Excellent. We'll see you on the blacktop at three thirty?"

"Sure, whatever."

Wolfgang slung his backpack over his shoulders and walked away, feeling very pleased with himself. That the previous year's fourth graders wanted him there to witness the glory of his handiwork and all of those that came before him was pretty flattering. Why not indulge the little twerps?

"It's good to be the king," he said, feeling very proud of himself at the moment.

He never saw the mischievous smirk on Arnold's face.

* * *

 **Trash Can Day: T-minus 3 minutes**

No fourth grader could possibly concentrate on anything that Monday…well except the clock on wall, which ticked ominously, counting the final seconds until their final doom.

To Robby Caldwell, his teacher's words may as well have gone in one ear and out the other. What was the point of United States' ecosystems and their respective food chains when a similar phenomenon was only minutes away at P.S. 118.

He had hounded Arnold, the shining beacon of fairness and justice, all week in the hopes of his grade avoid becoming the victims of the yearly hazing ritual that was Trash Can Day. However, since the Friday football game that occurred between them and the fifth graders, he hadn't bothered Arnold. The first reason was that he didn't want to cause him any more trouble than he had already experienced on his behalf. The second was that whatever fate was to befall them, it had probably already been set in stone since the day he had essentially put the outcome in the fifth graders' hands. Arnold knew of their plan to use Park's hideout from the previous year, and by extension, so did every other 5th grader. He had to assume the worst, what choice was there after all? It was better to be prepared than not.

"Pssst!" someone whispered to him. Robby saw it was his friend Josephine.

"What?"

"One minute until the bell rings."

"I'm pretty sure everyone in this room knows, Jo."

Indeed, he was not wrong. Practically every fourth grader had their eyes glued to the clock that rested above the chalkboard. If doomsday had a countdown, this was the closest equivalent any of them had ever known.

"Robby, what are we going to do?!" Josephine said frantically. "The fifth graders know exactly what our plans are. We'll be lucky if it takes us three days to stop smelling like moldy burritos."

"Just have faith, okay?" he responded, though he did not have great deal of confidence in his own encouraging sentiment. "Arnold may have convinced everyone not to go through with it."

"And if he didn't?"

"Well then it was nice knowing ya."

The bell rang loudly, putting a rather loud exclamation on their predicament. The moment of truth had arrived.

"Well, students, another day of academic achieving has come and gone!" they're young but totally oblivious teacher said to them. "Remember your homework on fractions and long division for tomorrow as well as one hundred words on John Adams and his Presidency. Dismissed!"

Barely registering her words, the fourth graders shuffled like disillusioned zombies out of the room, packed tightly in a group not even daring to spare their attention from every nick and cranny of the eerily quiet hallway. They moved along towards the exit, barely hoping to believe they would make it out of this intact.

"Maybe they just forgot?" one particularly naïve fourth grader spoke aloud.

"Don't be fooled," warned another. "This is how it starts. They want you to lure you into a false sense of security before striking."

"What if they're hiding in the all of the closets?! We should check every single one just to be sure!"

Robby couldn't help but roll his eyes. Paranoid ramblings wouldn't do anyone any good, even if he was just as scared himself. For the sake of everyone, someone needed to act sane…at least until all hell broke loose.

"Guys, relax…"

"Relax?!"

"Let's just hold off making any assumptions at least until we get outside," he tried to assure his classmates, as he pushed open the doors of the exit that lead to the blacktop outside.

The sight that greeted them, however, was not a welcome one. Waiting for their arrival, was every fifth grader in P.S. 118, faces smirking, lining every area of the schoolyard- the fences, the exits, and every single trash can, of which there were many.

"Can we make assumptions now?" Josephine asked, quite frightened.

"Just follow my lead, guys. We'll figure something out."

Amazingly, every fourth grade heeded him, although some extremely reluctantly as they walked down the steps onto the hot pavement. A loud slam could be heard behind them, as one of the fifth graders closed the door behind them, preventing any minimal chance they had to escape. All the while, they were being watched, no fifth grader taking their eyes off their quarry, as if predators sizing up their prey. Needless to say, it was unnerving for said prey.

The fourth graders stopped in the middle of the blacktop, fully surrounded, unsure of what to do next, but keenly aware of the fate that awaited them. The lack of action on the part of those who sought to trash can them seemed to unnerve a few select individuals, as one fourth grader suddenly broke out into hysterics.

"Stop the torment, please!" he said, sinking to his knees, tears forming in his eyes. "Just get it over with! I can't take it anymore!"

He was interrupted by another voice, one calm, pleasant and usually welcome to anyone who heard it. Which is why for Robby, it was deeply unsettling when it said what it did next.

"Not to worry. We won't be doing anything to you until we have a chance to explain what exactly is going on."

Robby's eyes narrowed as Arnold seemingly stepped out of nowhere, accompanied by his best friend Gerald, a familiar blonde girl with a pink bow he vaguely knew as 'Helga', as she had quite the reputation even among other grades. But right now, his focus was on the one with the oblong head.

"It's pretty clear what's going on," he said coldly. "We're all about to get trash canned. And apparently you're in on it now too, even after you promised to help me."

Arnold didn't seem offended by this at all and his pleasant tone remained as he spoke again.

"You misunderstand me, Robby. You see, my biggest mistake this week was thinking I could get rid of a tradition without understanding what makes people want to participate in it in the first place. Totally ignorant of the causes of violence."

"Arnold, what are you-"

"Just shut up and listen, bucko! You might learn something here," Helga cut across him.

"Thank you, Helga," Arnold said gesturing with a smile towards her.

"Keep going, football head. We don't have all day."

The fourth grade boy kept silent, definitely not wanting to provoke the wrath of one of the biggest bullies in the school. It certainly was an effective tactic.

"Right. Well, Robby, as you're aware I promised that I would help you try to get rid of Trash Can Day. But nothing seemed to convince my fellow classmates to join me. It seemed inevitable and that there wasn't anything I could do about it. That is until I realized something…we all realized something. We weren't actually angry or upset with the fourth graders, it was just misplaced revenge, a dark reminder of what we had gone through the year before."

Robby raised an eyebrow, and he could hear the confused murmurs of his fellow fourth graders. What exactly was Arnold driving at?

"So…what are you saying?" he asked slowly.

"That the only way to break this cycle of revenge, isn't to pass it down to the next generation of kids, but to hold the one who perpetrated it responsible."

Arnold turned his head, as did his friends, toward a hulking figure in the corner.

"Isn't that right, Wolfgang?"

The massive sixth grader's sneering face morphed into one of confusion. He had been thoroughly entertained up this point, thoroughly impressed with the fact that the fifth-grade wussies seemed to be toying with their victims before stuffing them into the garbage. The football face had even mentioned him as a source of inspiration. So why was he being called out?

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

All of a sudden, a large pair of hands, larger than his, grabbed onto his shoulders with ominous force. Looking back, he saw it was someone he hadn't interacted with in a long time. He wore a sleeveless, ripped shirt, complete with jeans and black combat boots. On his head sat a familiar blue do-rag.

"Hello, Wolfgang. Long time no see."

The sixth grader swallowed nervously in response.

"Torvald?"

* * *

 **To those of you who guessed Torvald, congrats! You are correct. Although in hindsight I probably made it way too obvious.**

 **I really hope I had some of you fooled by Arnold's behavior haha. The question is, how did he get the rest of his friends to change their minds?**

 **Find out in the next chapter!**

 **~The Wasp**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello, fellow readers.**

 **Well, to put it simply, this is it. The climax has arrived and all I can say is that I hope you like it and that all loose ends are tied...well except one haha. This took awhile to get started, but once it did, I believe it came out really awesome.**

 **Nothing really much left to do except respond to your reviews and read on!**

 **Call Me Nettie-** Wolfgang's had it coming for a long time. As for holding grudges, well let's see what Arnold decides to do.

 **Envy the Skunk-** Thanks! I actually have another story that does an entire one shot devoted to Stinky if you want to check it out. One of my favorite aspects of Hey Arnold is how all the characters have solid personalities and back stories. Stinky is definitely more than just a hick.

 **Guest-** Just wait and see.

 **Ajay435-** I hope you like the conclusion! All the questions are answered in this chapter. Well, almost every single one.

 **Human Dictionary-** This whole story, though fun and light hearted, was intended to have some broader themes so I hope this chapter is to your likeing:)

 **Deep Voice '06-** The fact that you have no idea what's coming meant I'm doing my job well haha. Arnold indeed does have a sneakier side when the situation calls for it, but ultimately he always wants to do what's right. Let's see how it plays out, especially where Helga is concerned.

 **The Rhombus- '** Commander Helga', I like it. In reality that describes her personality in many episodes lol. I am very interested to see what you think of this chapter because the answer didn't come to me until very recently.

 **Anyway, that concludes reviews. So just sit back, grab a beer, and enjoy:)**

 **Chapter 9. A Cycle is Broken**

Fear.

An emotion given to the weak by the strong. For most of his life, Wolfgang had been on the giving end of that relationship. However, even the burly sixth grader had enemies, ones stronger than him. It just so happened Torvald was one of them. One that could inspire that same fear he so readily inspired in others.

The middle schooler seized one of his arms and twisted it behind his back.

"Ow! What the hell!"

He winced as someone did the same with his other arm.

"Move it," Torvald ordered as he and a fat looking fourth grader with a backwards hat he interacted with before propelled him forward towards the football face and his friends. Try as he might, he could not break free from the hands that held him in place. Though the fat fifth grader was not as tall, his strength was at least equal to that of his.

"What gives, football face?!" he yelled angrily as he was brought in front of Arnold and the rest of his compatriots, the dumpster looming over him ominously.

Wolfgang tried once more to break the constraining grip that held him against his will but to no avail.

"It's really quite simple, Wolfgang," Arnold stated, rubbing some gravel between his thumb and index finger, quite unconcerned with their former tormentor's struggling. "In fact, it goes back to a simple we meeting we had today.

 _FLASHBACK_

 _"You're in?"_

 _"That's what I just said, Helga," Arnold said with a knowing smile. "I want to join you today."_

 _Discussion ensued at once among the rest of the fifth graders, as Gerald pushed his way to the front of the crowd._

 _"Arnold, what's going on here, buddy? You've been trying to convince everyone to call off Trash Can Day for a week. Why are you in all of a sudden?"_

 _It was an important question, one that Gerald had to ask. He wasn't about to sugarcoat anything, even if Arnold was his best friend. He would never do anything that went against his own moral code. So needless to say, the situation was puzzling._

 _"Ya really want to stick them fourth graders into the trash?" Stinky asked, scratching his head._

 _"I must admit, Arnold this is quite an about face, especially for you," Phoebe agreed._

 _"You're misunderstanding me," the blond boy explained. "I don't want to join in on trash canning the fourth graders."_

 _"Then just what the heck are you saying, football head?!" Helga pressed him, genuinely confused, as opposed to her usual mean façade._

 _"I'm saying we should actually target the person responsible for all of this," he replied calmly. "Think about it guys, who made sure we all got trash canned last year?"_

 _The answer came in a monotonous chorus from his classmates._

 _"Wolfgang."_

 _"Exactly, who always picks on us, steals our lunch money, kicks us off Gerald Field, and threatens us with physical violence if we don't do what he wants?"_

 _No one needed to say it aloud this time. Arnold's message was becoming clear._

 _"Sid, how long did you say Trash Can Day had been a tradition?"_

 _"About four years running."_

 _"Four years," Arnold repeated. "That's really not that long of a time. And we really don't know how it all started in the first place." He paused and took a quick glance at Gerald before continuing. "Look, however Trash Can Day started, it doesn't really matter. The fourth graders never did anything to us, just like we never did anything to last year's fifth graders. And we were still planning on putting them in the trash anyway. Doesn't that seem messed up?"_

 _There was some nodding and agreement._

 _"I suppose I hadn't really thought of it that way," said Harold._

 _Arnold resisted the urge to roll his eyes, as he had almost given them the exact same spiel last Friday. But no matter, his speech was working and now he had to hammer the point home._

 _"There's a lot of anger, a lot of resentment, even a desire for revenge," Arnold continued. "But the fourth graders shouldn't suffer because of it. So, let's turn all of that frustration onto the person who makes everyone suffer. You know as well as I do Wolfgang has a lot to answer for."_

 _His fellow fifth graders were really into it now, as he could see them not only realize the error of their ways, but also come around to the idea there was only person that needed to face justice._

 _"I say forget the fourth graders. I say it's time Wolfgang get a taste of his own medicine! Who's with me?!"_

 _There was a collective cheer throughout the crowd with some chanting 'Down with Wolfgang!' for good measure. Arnold smiled to himself, knowing he had finally succeeded._

 _"Wait a minute!" cut Helga above the fray and the cheering ceased. "This is all well and good, Arnoldo, but you're missing a few tiny details…Wolfgang is HUGE! How are we supposed to dunk him in the Trash Can when he could pick all of us up with one arm and turn us into mincemeat?"_

 _"She's got a point there, buddy," Gerald concurred. "Furthermore, he's a sixth grader now. He's got no dog in this fight. How are we supposed to get him to stick around after school even if we could get him in a trash can?"_

 _"All excellent questions," said Arnold as he placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Fortunately, I have solutions to all of them." He took out a piece of paper from his backpack and opened it up for all his friends to see. "Is the original plan more or less the same?"_

 _"Well, Helga tweaked a few details," said Gerald, which earned him a glare from the blonde girl in question. "But it's more or less the same. Cover up all entrances and block them in so the fourth graders can't leave the playground."_

 _"Good. Because I have an ace up my sleeve."_

 _"What's that, Arnold?" Nadine asked._

 _"Remember our old friend, Torvald?"_

 _"It's pretty hard to forget a 13 year old in your fourth grade class," said Rhonda. "In any case, he finally moved up to middle school. So, what?"_

 _"Well his school gets out thirty minutes before ours does. He agreed to be at P.S. 118 to make sure Wolfgang doesn't go anywhere."_

 _"Won't that be a dead giveaway?" asked Eugene. "I mean he already hates us. Torvald preventing him from leaving school will probably end up in a fight or worse."_

 _"I'll personally ensure he has an incentive to stay today. Trust me," Arnold replied easily. He shared a glimpse with both Gerald and Helga. "He won't be going anywhere," he said with a more reassuring tone._

 _There was a small pause, and for a second the oblong headed boy wondered if his friends would still back him. But any doubts vanished when Gerald nodded and put his arm around his shoulder._

 _"If you think this will work, Arnold, I'm with you one hundred percent. I'd rather see that big oaf in a trash can any day than any fourth grader."_

 _"Me too!" Harold cried._

 _"Me three!" hollered Curly._

 _The whole class soon joined in that agreement, even Helga, and the plan was clear. By the day's end, the true enemy would be dealt with._

 _END FLASHBACK_

Wolfgang's sneering face contorted with fury as he realized he had been duped.

"You tricked me!"

"Duh, what was your first clue, genius?" Helga quipped.

"You little runts!" the sixth-grade bully raged. "When I get out of this I swear-OW!"

Torvald had twisted Wolfgang's arm further to shut him up.

"You know Wolfgang, I told you a long time ago that you really shouldn't treat people like that. At some point it catches up to you. But the sad part is, you could have prevented this whole thing." Arnold explained, as he walked right in front of the older boy.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Wolfgang snarled.

"Trash Can Day isn't some tradition to be worshipped, it's a dumb hazing ritual that you decided to continue just because it was your opportunity to dish out what you had took the previous year. But you also had a chance; a chance to become a visionary for something totally different than the mindless violence of the past."

But Wolfgang remained defiant.

"Oh, brother. You really are a goody two shoes, football face. You think I'm actually scared of you?"

Gerald frowned, and Helga suddenly became so angry she marched right up to Wolfgang, fist clenched ready to introduce him to old Betsy.

"You better start being scared, bub!" she growled.

As much as Wolfgang might deserve a knuckle sandwich, Arnold had to settle her down. Giving in to his taunts and threats would undermine the whole purpose of what they were trying to accomplish. He just hoped his fellow fifth graders would see it the same way he did when it was all said and done.

"No, Helga. I've got this."

He nodded at Torvald and Harold, who complied by raising Wolfgang into the air. Meanwhile, Curly and Brainy unlocked the dumpster, the full scent of its foul depths releasing into the air.

"Hobo puke, tuna surprise, and just a hint of moldy cheese!" Curly laughed maniacally as he swung down onto the blacktop.

Wolfgang grimaced at the smell, but for the first time, the full implications of what was about to happen hitting him at last. All of a sudden, he wasn't so defiant anymore.

"Let me go!" he yelled out but with much more anxiety in his voice.

"No can do, Wolfgang," Arnold said calmly, and by now his serenity carried a degree of ruthlessness to it. "Like I already said, my friends and I got together this morning and realized you were worthier of putting into a trash can than any fourth grader. And frankly you deserve it. We aren't the only ones who've suffered from your bullying. It's everyone in this neighborhood. Vandalizing stores, black eyes, stealing our stuff, being forced to do your dirty work…. well guess what, now you get what's coming to you."

Everyone held their breath as Wolfgang continued to be held high by Torvald and Harold, ready at a moment's notice to throw him into the giant dumpster upon Arnold's say so. Revenge had seemed so sweet that morning, but now that the time had come, there was an air of tentativeness throughout the playground. This was acutely felt by Helga Pataki, who had been looking forward most of all to witnessing Wolfgang's comeuppance. The scene she was witnessing, however, was so _brutal,_ especially given that Arnold was the one in command. They had all agreed to this, had they not? So, why did she have such an uneasy pit in her stomach?

 _Arnold, my love, part of me wishes you did not have to betray your good and kind nature just to appease the unbridled masses of P.S. 118. Is the pain we've suffered at the hands of others truly worth the spectacle?_

Her silent warning went unheeded however, as Wolfgang finished spitting his last threats before being ceremoniously dumped.

"You won't get away with this, football face! Do you hear me?! I'll get out of this and you won't like what I'll have planned for you next time! I won't stop until your DEAD MEAT!"

Far from rattling the blond boy, he barely skipped a beat when he spoke next.

"You're right, Wolfgang. That is what you would do. You'd probably spend every waking moment trying to get back at me for this until you succeeded somehow. Then my friends and I would respond in kind and so on and so forth. A whole new cycle of violence born out of the old one."

It was going to happen, and everyone knew it. Arnold had only to lift his finger and Wolfgang would be tossed into the garbage, completing a self-fulfilling prophecy both of them had predicted. An elementary school version of Hatfield and McCoy would be set off and revenge the primary hallmark to kid generations for years to come…

"That's why we're not putting you in the trash can."

A loud gasp emitted from nearly everyone witnessing the scene, followed by silence in which you could hear a pin drop.

"Put him down, guys," he said to Torvald and Harold, who looked confused, but nevertheless complied.

Wolfgang was so perplexed by the sudden change in events, he didn't bother to try and pummel anyone as he was set down on his own two feet again.

"You're letting me go?" he asked, utterly flabbergasted. "Why?"

"I'd like to know the same thing," Gerald said, turning towards his best friend. "The whole point of this was to get back at Wolfgang, not let him off the hook."

"Are you chickening out again, Arnold?" Sid accused, pointing a finger towards his direction.

"No, Sid," the oblong headed boy explained. "I'm doing what he should have done last year when we were defenseless and at his mercy. I'm setting a better example."

"Better example?" Rhonda questioned. "What could be a better example then sticking his sorry butt into a trash can like he did to us?"

"If we stoop to his level right here and now, history will remember us as being just as bad as he is. That's the real way to break the cycle of revenge."

But the crowd wasn't having it. Discontent spread among his classmates and angry mutterings grew louder, until Arnold wondered whether what he had just done was about to get _him_ thrown into the dumpster that sat behind them. He looked to Gerald for support and the black preteen was supremely uneasy. He would never betray his best friend, but they were far outnumbered to put up any sort of real defense. All of a sudden, a giant hand moved towards them, one that belonged to Harold, who looked madder than Arnold had ever seen him.

"I can't believe you, Arnold!" he said, even sounding a bit hurt.

The two boys braced themselves and Gerald even closed his eyes and put his hands in front of his face, when a loud whistle rang throughout the schoolyard, causing everyone to clasp their ears.

"AGH!"

"Gee willikers, that was loud," Stinky proclaimed, sticking a finger into his ear drum.

Arnold looked up and saw that several things had happened at once. Everyone that had advanced on him had stopped dead in their tracks. Wolfgang was in a headlock by Torvald, as he had tried to escape in the midst of the drama but was stopped cold by the bigger 7th grader. But most surprising of all was the person who had authored the whistle that prevented full blown mayhem.

 _Helga?_

"Listen up, chuckleheads!" the blonde girl said putting her hands on her hips. "I get why you're mad at the football head. He's always pulling morality stuff like this and like ninety percent of the time it's just a killjoy. Seriously."

 _Thanks, Helga. I always could count on you_ , Arnold thought irritably.

"But…" she glanced over at her beloved. "He's right in this case. Look at yourselves! You're behaving like a bunch of mindless animals, and for what? Because we're not going to stick this lummox in a trash can? We all want to get back at people that hurt us in some way. I think about all the times I've wanted to absolutely throttle my sister for embarrassing me and annoying the crap out of me. Heck, one time I even changed one of her college grades just to spite her. But afterwards, it didn't make me feel any better, if anything I felt worse because I knew what I had done only caused my sister pain and humiliation. In other words, I brought her down to my level."

Taking a deep breath, Helga kept going knowing she was taking quite the risk, but such premonitions didn't matter. Only one person did.

"Wolfgang deserves a lot more than a trash can for everything he does to us and other people. But if we go through with this, we'd have a laugh and feel amazing for maybe a day before two things happen: one, the enjoyment of revenge wears off and we realize we made a mistake. Two, he comes back and tries to do even worse."

She gestured towards Arnold as the crowd took in her words.

"Arnold always turns the other cheek, but more so than that he's always had our backs no matter what. Maybe instead of being like Wolfgang, we should be like him for once in our lives. The world would be a better place because of it."

His classmates looked at one another, shame spreading across their youthful faces. The tense atmosphere seemed to deflate right then and there as apologies began to be made.

"I feel more rotten than a tomater left out in the field," Stinky said sadly. "We darn well shoulda listened to you in the first place, Arnold."

"I guess we got so caught up in our anger over who deserved to get put in a trash can, we forgot it was our own hearts actually filled with garbage."

"Yeah, great analogy, Eugene," Gerald said rolling his eyes. He turned his attention back to Arnold. "Well, buddy, looks like you beat the odds again. The only question now, is what to do about him." He pointed behind him to wear Torvald still held Wolfgang in a headlock and the latter was turning slightly blue.

"Let him go, Torvald."

The gargantuan middle schooler complied, releasing Wolfgang, who quickly dropped to one knee to catch his breath.

"You really think I'm just gonna forget about this, football face?!" he gasped.

"No, but it doesn't matter," Arnold responded firmly. "From this day forward, Trash Can Day is no more, and I'll personally ensure that. You may think that being bigger and stronger than everyone gives you the right to do whatever you want to people, but we don't need a dumb hazing ritual to prove our worth to anyone."

Returning to his feet, the angry sixth grader leered ominously as he stared down at Arnold.

"Bold words for such a small fry," he laughed. "But words don't save you from the sticks and stones."

For the second time in five minutes, Arnold feared he was about to be on the receiving end of physical violence as Wolfgang raised his fist. True, he was in the midst of his friends and Torvald, but none of them were quick or close enough in proximity to stop the sixth grader from landing a potentially deadly blow…

 **SPLAT!**

A large bucket filled with garbage suddenly plopped down on Wolfgang's head, temporarily blinding and disorienting him.

"AH! What the hell! Get it off!"

Immediately the crowd started laughing, and some began jeering when Wolfgang slipped on a fish head and landed straight on his back.

Arnold, Gerald and the rest of their friends were entirely preoccupied in the misery of their enemy, so they didn't notice a smaller figure jump down from the top of the dumpster.

"Words don't save you from tuna surprise either," Robby cracked with a grin.

"Robby?"

They had all been so focused on the conflict surrounding Wolfgang, the fourth graders had been practically forgotten.

"I figured that gorilla wasn't going to leave you alone even when you did let him off the hook," he shrugged. "Sometimes you need something more convincing to get a bully to back off."

"My man," Gerald smiled, his respect for the younger boy growing. "I think he's got you there, brother."

"Well the important thing is, you saved me from a black eye and maybe some stitches," Arnold said. "Thank you."

"I should be thanking you," the fourth grader responded and many of his friends came to stand by his side. "You were the one who just saved us from the worst day of our lives. You came through even though you couldn't promise it. That means a lot, Arnold."

"Think nothing of it," Arnold said with a smile. "I just did what I thought was right."

"You did what no one else had been willing to do before." Several of the fourth graders nodded in agreement. "In the end it was your way of thinking that won the day, not Wolfgang…sort of."

A loud clang could be heard in the background as Arnold, Gerald, Robby, and his friends turned to see some of the other fourth and fifth graders taking turns slapping the bucket that was still stuck on Wolfgang's helmet, laughing and mocking him as he frantically tried to catch them without the use of sight.

"Come here you little runts!" came his muffled yell.

"Then again, my grandma always says self defense is necessary in the face of a violent enemy," Arnold said sagely.

"Personally, I think we should have stuck him in that dumpster anyway," Gerald grumbled, crossing his arms.

Arnold privately didn't disagree, but no further effort on their part was needed. Torvald came up behind Wolfgang, removed the bucket from his head, and gave him a prompt kick in the rear.

"Beat it!" he growled. "And take a damn shower."

That was enough to convince the defeated sixth grader to cut his losses and abandon the schoolyard. He ran away as fast as he could with the faint cries of 'Mommy!' echoing through the streets.

"Man, calling for your mommy. How embarrassing is that?! Ahaha!" Harold laughed, pointing a finger at their fledging enemy.

"You do that every week, Harold."

"Shut up, Sid! I do not!"

"Ugh, can someone please shut that dumpster? It is ruining my complexion!"

Gerald shook his head at the bickering, blocking it out in order to address the fourth graders once more. Though the smell of trash still lingered in the air, there was a sense that the ordeal was finally over, as the two groups addressed one another.

"You guys ain't so bad, you know that?"

"You're not so bad yourselves," one the other fourth graders responded.

"We are sorry we caused you so much strife over this," added Phoebe. "Looking back, I can't see the logic behind such a trivial event."

"Me neither," agreed Robby. "But there's one thing I still don't understand. If you didn't have any intention of going through with Trash Can Day, why didn't you just tell us?"

"Well you heard Arnold earlier. It was sort of a last-minute plan," admitted Nadine.

"Besides, if you had known beforehand that we were really after Wolfgang, it might have given the whole thing away," Arnold explained, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "We needed to keep the element of surprise. We're sorry we couldn't let you in on it."

"No harm done," Robby said kindly. "I think it's about time whatever differences between fourth and fifth graders we set it aside for good." He stuck out a hand to Arnold and Gerald, who each gladly reciprocated the gesture in turn, to the delight of each grade. There would be no more vindictive measures taken against either side, no settling of scores. The day that had plagued fourth and fifth graders all week was now gone forever.

"Just so you know, even though we're not sticking you guys in trash cans doesn't mean we're gonna take it easy on you on the baseball field," Gerald said coolly.

"Why don't we test that theory right now?" Robby replied in kind. "Fourth graders vs. Fifth graders. Winners get bragging rights."

"Make it a cherry soda and you got yourself a deal."

It seemed all was well. The two sides cheered, and the group began to make their way towards Gerald Field, laughing and good natured ribbing among the chatter. All except Arnold who hung back.

"Arnold are you coming, man?" Gerald called out to him.

"Be there in a minute!" the blond boy called back. "I have to take care of a couple things."

"Suit yourself."

Truth be told, Arnold couldn't take all the credit for saving the fourth graders and ending Trash Can Day. Robby had been a big part of that, but there were other people he needed to thank as well, including a former classmate.

"Thanks for helping out, Torvald," Arnold said, walking up to him and offering a handshake, which the bigger lad accepted.

"No problem," he said graciously. "I'm always happy to do what I can for the person who got me into seventh grade."

"You got yourself into seventh grade. I just gave you extra nudge."

Torvald smiled widely. "You're a good dude, Arnold. What you did today took a lot of guts. Not many people would have stood up to Wolfgang."

"Someone had to," Arnold half shrugged.

"If it were me, I probably would have tossed him into the dumpster and made him stay there for an hour," Torvald said, his eyebrows furrowing. "Wolfgang's been bad news ever since he was in Kindergarten. I should know considering how I got held back three times. Had to be in his class one year, the stupid lowlife."

He adjusted his do-rag and cracked his knuckles lightly.

"But your way was better. Honestly, I think you did more than just save the butts of those fourth graders. You gave them something to look up to instead of something to fear."

Arnold couldn't help but appreciate that last comment especially. Had he really done that much for Robby? For everyone in P.S. 118?

He adamantly thanked Torvald once more and asked, "Hey, you wanna play some baseball with us down at Gerald Field?"

"I can't tonight. I promised I'd help my mom with the groceries and make dinner with her."

"I understand."

Torvald shook Arnold's hand once more.

"I'll see ya around. You need anything just ask, okay?"

"Best of luck, Torvald."

Nodding, the big seventh grader made his way out onto the street, jaywalking as he did so and causing a car to swerve around him while honking loudly.

Arnold couldn't help but smile. Their former classmate was still a little rough around the edges, but not everyone large and tall had to turn out like Wolfgang. Especially in Torvald's case; he had a heart of gold.

But he wasn't the only one. There was one more person he needed to speak to, but she was nowhere to be found. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her since her amazing but unexpected speech defending him.

"Where's Helga?" he asked aloud.

* * *

 **It's not quite over yet my friends! We still have an epilogue and that's going to deal with Arnold and Helga one on one...should make for an interesting conversation;)**

 **Anyway, I'd like to make a quick author's note. I had originally planned an ending for this chapter and then I changed my mind. I went back and forth between two possible outcomes until I decided to combine them. Throwing Wolfgang into the trash can as a means to prevent future trash canning seemed counter intuitive and out of character on Arnold's part. But I also didn't want to let him off the hook either, as Wolfgang thoroughly deserved some sort of payback for his delinquent ways. In the end, I felt like I struck a good medium between the two.**

 **Let me know what you think! And thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story!**

 **~The Wasp**


	10. Epilogue

**Well, here it is folks. The final chapter, the epilogue of this story.**

 **It's kind of funny how a random idea can turn into a full fledged fanfic haha. I always thought the 'Longest Monday' episode was one of the more profound of the series and I had it my head that this was going to be more of a hypothetical sixth season episode of Hey Arnold. Well, as I continued writing it, more ideas popped into my head and I thought it would a cool way to establish a sort of "pre-Jungle movie" kind of continuation.**

 **So a few things before I get to reviews. Number one, make note of Helga's anxiety in this chapter. She's terrified that everyone will think she loves Arnold, but clearly that's not the case as in the movie only Phoebe and Gerald have a true idea of her real feelings. Second, also pay attention to Arnold's behavior towards her and his 'theory'. If you don't remember him mentioning it, go back to chapter 1 because this is where everything sort of gets tied together. Remember, in the movie Arnold and Gerald share a couple of knowing looks when Helga starts berating them. Let's just say this epilogue explains the foundation of that.**

 **Now on with responding to you guys:)**

 **Call Me Nettie** \- Thank you! It's been a real pleasure to write and I hope you enjoyed it. I especially hope you enjoy the upcoming conversation they have.

 **Envy the Skunk** \- Part of trying to bring a satisfactory conclusion to this story was to keep Arnold in character while having Wolfgang get what he deserves. I'm glad you liked my one shot for Stinky as well!

 **Kryten-** That was my aim! Thank you very much:)

 **Guest-** Eugene has more cool lines than people think. Hope you like the epilogue!

 **Ajay435-** I do admit, the mob mentality is a common thing among adults and kids. I don't think they would have actually hurt him but they were pissed at the same time. Chalk up another wholesome moment for Helga:) Can't wait to see what you think of the epilogue.

 **Deep Voice 06-** To be honest, I didn't have Helga and Arnold have this talk until I got towards the end. Leaving it open ended seemed too illogical. Arnold would have wanted to at least thank Helga or talk to her. I think by now he's slowly figuring it out but he's not there yet and you'll see that here. Everything they've experienced thus far will be a factor in the conversation. I hope you like the conclusion.

 **Guest-** I imagine something like that happened too. I've never seen that episode of the Simpsons but I'll have to watch it now.

 **The Rhombus-** I figured Arnold would have to take the high road. Too out of character for him to seek petty revenge. That being said, it doesn't stop other people from taking it, and the fourth graders dumping the garbage all over him was very satisfying to write. As for Arnold and Helga making sense of the day, you're about to find out...

 **And that concludes the final round of reviews! Without further ado, here is the final chapter!**

 **Epilogue**

The docks of Hillwood were usually a less than appealing place to take a stroll to, but Helga didn't go there for the cleanliness, old ships, or foul smell. No there was one specific reason and that was the sky. Most days, there was a dull haze that overlooked the city caused by the constant flow of smog, but if one were to go to the shipyard in the mid-afternoon and looked to the east out towards the sea on a bright, sunny day they would witness a beautiful sight.

Crystal blue dotted by small puffs of white while a lemon-yellow pearl shined down with the promise of summer. The blonde girl didn't know what it was about this particular scene that mesmerized her so much, but she had been coming here so long on solitary walks she didn't bother to question it. It was purely a means to escape life when it became too much to handle.

There were no shortage of reasons either, some past, some present. Whether it was the sugary sweetness of Olga, one of Miriam's drunken episodes, or even a rough day at school, sometimes it was better not to think and just look at the sky and imagine being carried away up into it.

 _Criminy, I sound like the football head_.

It was fitting, however, for that was precisely why Helga was there. Arnold had saved the day once again, and what's more she had openly helped him this time (she would be damned if Sid tied Arnold to the tetherball pole again). Trash Can Day had been chucked into the bin of history and now everyone was practically holding hands and singing kumbaya. But through all of this, she didn't feel happy, if anything she was uncertain and more than a little scared.

 _I gave myself away_ , she thought to herself. She sat on the edge of the peer, began kicking her legs while clasping her hands together nervously. _I've helped my love so many times anonymously. Staying in the shadows whilst my Arnold rejoices in the comfort of his friends and family. But surely no one will take my acts of aggression seriously anymore?_

The rational part of her brain (however feeble it was) reminded her she had more or less revealed her true feelings the previous year when she had confessed her love for him and given him a big long smooch to prove it. But that had been on a top of a gloomy tower at 4 am in the morning with no witnesses. Every nervous fiber of her being told her that come tomorrow, questions would come her way and ones she would not be able to answer convincingly. Being tough and mean had served her all her life, even if deep down she despised behaving that way, it was the only way to get people to back off.

Helga supposed most of them would be able to put two and two together. With some exceptions, as she was surprised Harold and Stinky could find their way anywhere without sign posts. But Rhonda, vain and obnoxious as she was, was not an idiot, and neither was Nadine. Sid was naturally suspicious of anything out of the ordinary, and she suspected Gerald was catching on more and more with passing day.

Staring up at the sky, she tried to counter this anxiety by telling herself she was being overly paranoid. Besides, wasn't it a good thing she had gone against her usual nastiness to help the one she loved most? Wasn't that the whole point of what she was trying to accomplish?

 _"Helga this kind of thing happens every day. But you realize you'll never know how he feels until you tell him?"_

 _"But I'm not ready to tell him!"_

 _"You don't have to tell him now. You can do it when you're ready."_

That single conversation with Dr. Bliss had changed everything for her. She could take comfort in the fact that she could keep everything hidden and still be the mean, scowling girl of P.S. 118. At the time that had been enough. But the day was fast approaching where the status quo would simply not do any longer. The course was set; it was coming sooner rather than later, and it would end only one of two ways: being embraced by the boy she had loved for all time or ultimate rejection. Helga wasn't sure her heart could handle either outcome.

 _I'm…still not ready_ , she thought to herself sadly. _Even after all this time, even after kissing him on top of a skyscraper, even after giving a heartfelt speech that prevented the mindless hordes of revenge from exercising their twisted machinations….I still can't bring myself to do it. How can I finally prove to him I really care? That the love is real and finally shed this scowling persona of lies? What's it going to take?_

Breathing a heavy sigh, Helga realized she was close to a crossroads. Even if by some miracle her classmates still suspected nothing, time was running out. No more excuses could be made, no more half-stuttered reasons as to why she followed him, teased him, laughed at him, and devoted countless hours to notebooks, poems, shrines, tantric spells, and more. She had nowhere to hide. Not anymore.

Helga adjusted her dress as she stood up to turn and go back home, for however long she had it. She had seen the foreclosure statement in the mail on top of the table while Miriam had been passed out. Focusing on Arnold's situation had been a sufficient distraction for the moment, but this was another reality waiting to bite her. She supposed she should be more concerned for herself and the family's well being, but the blonde preteen only felt a kind of numbness that occurred when one had already accepted the inevitable. Her life had been full of misery, and this was just another in a long line.

Her stomach growled, and she gazed downwards as she started walking.

 _Maybe I can make a sandwich with the small amount of bread and ham we have left…_

CRASH*

Having been so preoccupied with her own internal dilemma, Helga had run straight into the very object of her affection, the boy she had openly protected not even an hour earlier. The universe just loved throwing curveballs at her. Thankfully, neither of them fell but both rubbed their aching heads from the unexpected run in.

"A-Arnold…"

"Sorry, Helga," the blond boy apologized kindly.

Still a bit hazy, Helga regained her senses and went into her usual standoffish self.

"Criminy, football head! What is it with you and giving me a bruise on my noggin every week?!"

She paused, curiosity substituting for fake anger.

"How'd you find me, anyway?"

Arnold shrugged. "I knew you couldn't have gone far. One of the dockworkers mentioned a blonde girl with pigtails in a pink dress that comes around here pretty frequently. I could only assume he meant you."

Helga prevented herself from sighing. She made a mental note to try and be a bit more inconspicuous the next time she came down here although she couldn't blame Arnold for that.

"Why were you looking for me anyway?" she asked. "I thought you'd be off with the rest of them playing baseball or something."

Arnold averted his eyes for a split second and began to rub his hand on the back of his neck, a sign Helga had recognized for years. It meant he was either embarrassed or unsure of what to say, something he often did around Lila…

"Well…I..never got a chance to thank you for what you did earlier," he said, his eyes meeting hers once more. "I'm sorry I wasn't initially upfront about what I wanted to do, but I wasn't sure if you'd still go along with it if I suggested we gave Wolfgang a pass."

Helga shook her head.

"Don't sweat it, football head. In the end, he got what deserved anyway courtesy of the fourth graders and Torvald," she cracked a shifty grin. "But in all seriousness, you were right the whole time. I just don't think any of us wanted to admit it."

"It's more than just that Helga," Arnold explained. "You stood up for me when no one else did. Not Torvald, not Gerald, _you_. And that means a lot."

Helga narrowed her eyes, her heart fluttering as she took in his praise but also unsure of what to make of it or how to respond. She could tell this wasn't the whole story either.

"What are you trying to say, Arnold? I got places to be you know."

The blond boy had to resist showing his exasperation.

"I'm trying to say, or ask rather, is that today you were loyal and brave and…."

He stopped and then gave a conflicted look as if he wasn't sure he should say anything further. This didn't help to ease Helga's anxiety.

"Just spit it out will ya!" she practically shrieked.

"Every time something like this happens, the next day you pretend as if it didn't happen. Why? You do all of these incredible things for people and then you're back to scowling and shoving people to the side. I just don't get it."

Internally, Helga was screaming.

 _Do you REALLY not get it by now, you beautiful football headed hunk?!_

However, she still had to keep appearances, no matter how fragile they were at this point.

"I've told you this before, Arnold. Being mean and nasty is who I am. It's what makes me special. It's how people know me and always will."

But for once, Arnold didn't leave the issue alone. He raised an eyebrow, indicating he did not completely buy the explanation.

"Is that really how you want to be known and remembered? As a mean person who bullied people and carried a bad attitude?"

Helga tried to respond convincingly. A standard 'you got it, bucko!' or 'what's it to you, geek bait?' would have sufficed. However, this time around, she couldn't find a proper explanation. Whether her brain was mal-functioning, or the excuses had finally run out, she was at a loss.

"It's…well, just…"

"Personally, I don't think you like acting this way at all. I've seen enough times where you've gone out of your way to be helpful, to be nice, and do what's right. I used to think you bugged me Helga. But honestly, now you just confuse me."

He was getting too close. The blonde girl's panic button was pressed and despite part of her desperately wanting to repeat what happened on the FTI building, instinct took over.

"SO WHAT?!" she yelled at him. "Since when is anything I do of any use or concern to you, football head?! Am I some pariah to be studied and observed like some zoo animal?! Just get out of my face before ole' Betsy makes a return appearance!"

That didn't deter the oblong headed boy either. At this point nothing would. His response was so calm, it almost deflated Helga's anger instantaneously.

"Yell at me all you want, Helga. You're not this mean, unkind, or selfish. Today proved that. Even if I don't quite understand why yet."

He paused and then began beaming at her.

"At least allow me to say thank you."

The blond boy moved towards Helga, causing her to recoil.

"What're you…"

But he didn't say anything. Instead, Arnold placed a hand on her shoulder; very gently and Helga practically melted at his touch. He had only initiated physical contact with her a few times and those were all very 'in the moment'. This was deliberate as one could get.

She was frozen in place as he kept smiling at her in that coquettish manner and it wasn't until a few more seconds had passed that Helga managed to come back to earth.

"What the heck are you doing, you creep?!" and she swatted his hand away (all the while noticing her own palms were incredibly sweaty). "Get your filthy mitts offa me!"

"I'm sorry," Arnold said innocently. "I was trying to show my appreciation is all."

"Y-Yeah, well….do it in a way that doesn't involve being a complete weirdo," Helga replied, unable to keep the shaking in her voice, nor the blush out of her cheeks.

"I'll keep that in mind," the blond preteen said, his smile now taking a cooler tone. "But in all seriousness, Helga, what you did today was amazing. I couldn't have done it without you."

Helga backed away slowly, knowing that any more time spent with her beloved would result in a literal explosion of emotion and joy, but not before leaving with hurried gratitude of her own.

"Hey, no problem, football head, what a ride, we should do it again some time, well look at the time I've gotta be going! See ya!"

And she ran off without looking back, happiness radiating off her body, practically skipping with elation.

 _Arnold was flirting with me! He put his hand on my shoulder! He smiled at me! Oh, sweet, merciful providence, I could scream to the heavens!_

In the end, she didn't need to. For no matter what came tomorrow, loss of a home, family dysfunction, even potential ridicule from whatever classmates thought of her, it didn't matter. One thing kept her going and always would for as long as she held breath: Arnold. It was enough. Even if she wasn't ready to fully reveal to him how she felt, Helga G. Pataki could sense she was that much closer to her dreams being realized.

Looking at the sky, Helga heaved a romantic sigh. Today, she could practically fly up into it.

* * *

Arnold could only chuckle to himself as he watched Helga run off of the shipyard and into the distance.

 _Well that was certainly enlightening._

For the first time in his life, he truly felt was seeing her for what she was. Not mean, not calling him names or throwing spitballs, but a genuine friend who had risked herself to ensure he would not be harmed. She still wouldn't openly acknowledge to having that altruistic side, but today was enough. More than enough.

"See ya, Helga," he whispered quietly.

It was his turn to gaze at the sky. It truly was incredibly beautiful at this angle, especially this time of the day. It actually reminded him something, but he wasn't sure exactly what that was. But the color dazzled him all the same as he kept thinking about Helga.

Arnold had always held suspicion she wasn't all that she seemed to be. The FTI incident only further proved that. Now more than anything she caused him to scratch his head. Her nastiness and scowling was just as irritating as ever but with that was a degree of perplexity that wasn't there before. Hadn't the girl admitted she loved him a year ago and sealed the deal with a kiss? Despite believing in her better nature, was he prepared to accept the idea that she was actually in _love_ with him? The signs were all pointing in one direction, yet he still had a hard time even acknowledging it.

 _You just flirted with her_ , a small voice inside his head told him.

So? He had tried to flirt with Ruth and Lila.

 _This situation doesn't even come close to that_ , the small voice answered. _You openly called her out and she caved._

The more Arnold thought about it, the more this reminded him of a dream he once had. One that almost mirrored the events that had just occurred.

 _"Why are you doing this?! Look, I know you're not this lazy, cold, and uncaring. You may act like that, but deep down, I know you're smart and you have feelings. And if we have to be married to each other, then I want you to start showing it."_

 _His tormentor suddenly turned away and couldn't look him in the eye._

 _"I-I don't know what you're talking about."_

 _"Yes, you do, Helga! Why can't you just admit it? You're not this mean."_

 _"Yes, I am," she weakly protested._

 _"No, you're not! YOU'RE NOT!"_

That particular episode, in which he had been married to Helga, had been terrifying but also incredibly vivid. By the end of that dream, not only had she confessed to not being so awful, she even liked him. She hadn't finished explaining herself by the time his alarm went off, but he was almost sure she was about to admit to loving him as well.

He would have written the whole thing off as merely a crazy nightmare, except for the fact that it had become a reality less than a month later.

 _"You heard me pal! I love you! LOVE YOU!"_

Arnold stood in silence for a moment, taking all of these factors in. Perhaps Helga wasn't the only one who was hiding something.

Before he could dwell on such matters further, he heard a voice call out.

"Hey, Arnold!"

Gerald had arrived on the docks (by now the workers were increasingly puzzled why so many eleven year olds were frequenting the shipyard) and looked slightly relieved as he approached his best friend.

"Arnold, man. Where have you been? You're missing out on a good game. We're up 4-2 but we need your lumber."

"Sorry, Gerald. I just got caught up with something."

"Which was?"

"Remember that theory I was telling you about last week? Well, let's just say I got to test it out."

He smiled slyly, and the black boy seemingly got the hint.

"Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously. "You came all the way down here just to talk to Helga?"

"I couldn't just leave without thanking her."

"You know, I'm pretty sure you could."

"Come on, Gerald," Arnold said, knowing he was in complete disbelief. "I know what Helga has been like our entire lives. But she saved my butt today. She's as much of a reason that we ended Trash Can Day as anyone else."

Gerald appraised him but didn't say anything.

"It's an act. The whole thing," Arnold continued. "No matter how mean she tries to be, she's a good person. Even if she doesn't want to admit it."

Gerald looked off into the distance, rubbing his chin.

"I have wondered lately…" he muttered to himself.

"What?"

He snapped out of his brief musing and started to laugh.

"You know something, you're a bold kid, Arnold. Not many would be willing to walk alone to the docks and face down Helga. Even if it was just to thank her."

"I don't think it's as dangerous as you're making out to be," Arnold replied with reciprocating chuckle.

"You know something? After today, neither do I."

There was suddenly an understanding between the two friends as both realized that the fear surrounding Helga G. Pataki was unfounded. What to make of it, well that had yet to be decided. But after a long day, they just wanted to go out and be kids while they still could.

Figuring out women and growing up could come later.

"What do you say we go down, finish the game, and get some ice cream?" Gerald suggested.

"I'd say that's the best thing I've heard all day."

Together, the two friends walked off the docks and back towards Gerald Field as the sun settled into the west behind them, the sky as blue and promising as it had ever been.

"That reminds me," Arnold said with a coy smirk. "What's going on with you and Phoebe?"

"Man, I have no idea what you're talking about."

 **THE END**

* * *

 **It's over! I hope you guys liked the ending and that it was satisfactory to you. A sincere thanks and gratitude to everyone who followed and reviewed this story. It means a great deal. Never hesitate to reach out via PM if you want to chat or even discuss potential ideas.**

 **Also, my Hey Arnold work continues with 'More Than You Bargained For' which has quite a ways to go before it's over with. So give it a read:)**

 **Thank you again, guys! Rock on!**

 **~The Wasp**


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